Recapture
by KLMeri
Summary: An innocuous tour lands Kirk, Spock, and McCoy in deadly territory. K/S/M. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: Recapture (1/?)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek TOS  
**Pairing**: Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
**Summary**: An innocuous tour lands Kirk, Spock, and McCoy in deadly territory.  
**A/N**: It feels like forever since I gave my attention to the TOS boys for more than a one-shot. Maybe it's time for some drama to head their way?

* * *

**Part One**

Doctor McCoy was in a meeting with the Surgeon General and Starfleet Medical's board members when a nurse burst into Sickbay's rarely used briefing room without permission. The lashing he started to give froze on his tongue as he noticed she looked like she had run from the opposite end of the bay.

"It's the Captain!" she cried.

Leonard McCoy did not need to hear anything more. "Sir," he directed towards the over-sized screen opposite him, "permission to reschedule."

The Surgeon General, a dour-looking but ironically cheerful man, flapped a hand in dismissal at McCoy, overruling the murmur of the others around him. "Ship's business first, Leonard."

With hurried thanks, Leonard cut the connection and sprinted out of the room, the nurse on his heels.

* * *

_Two weeks ago_

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Arms crossed, a man harrumphed loudly. "But fool me a third time, Jim, and who gets the shame will be the least of your worries."

At present Jim Kirk had no worries of any kind. He smiled to prove this. "Bones, what is it exactly that you're arguing here?"

"I'm telling you that I don't like it!"

"Which part?"

"All of it!"

Jim sighed but the sound held fondness. "We could have this argument a thousand times and neither of us would concede his ground. I've made up my mind, Bones."

"It's you and your blasted mind that's the problem," grumbled Jim's companion. "I take it you told Spock first."

He had. "Spock is very amendable to the idea."

Leonard uncrossed his arms and stepped forward to poke a finger into Jim's naked chest. "I very much doubt he is, Jim. He's just a little too Vulcan to stir up the pot. Well, I'm not. You go ahead and get that charter booked since you're itchin' to, but don't think for a second I'll be joining you." McCoy turned away and moved towards the cabin door, griping as he went. "Fantasy cruise, my sainted aunt! Wasted credits, more like, and he doesn't even consider what happened the last time!"

Jim lifted a hand and used the small towel hanging over his shoulder to scrub at the back of his neck. It was a good thing that the retreating man didn't turn back to look at him because the smile on Jim's face would have been infuriating. Jim couldn't help his smile though. There was something about a riled Leonard McCoy which tickled him—and caused a pleasant little shiver down his spine. He had learned in recent months that attraction was more fluid than he had always thought it to be. Once one associated something with pleasure, it was difficult to undo the association; at least it was for a human.

But then again, Spock didn't seem to fare any better these days containing his reaction. Oh, the Vulcan's distraction wasn't noticeable to anyone else, but Jim saw the subtle difference in Spock's posture when Spock considered one or both of them.

And Jim liked it. He honestly did. He felt younger than he had in the five years the Enterprise had been under his command. He also felt that, for once, he had an honest relationship which would not demand a choice between his work and his personal life. Leonard and Spock were part of both, supported him in both as he did for them. They could be who they were meant to be.

Yes, he was pleased. Happy. He wouldn't trade this life, he thought, for anything.

* * *

"Wear these."

Leonard thrust a pair of gloves into his companion's hands before donning a hat that he believed to be the galaxy's ugliest recreation of a beaver cap, yet was unfortunately all the nearby shop sold, and scowled at the departure feed of the spaceport.

Spock contemplated the gloves a moment too long for Leonard's liking, so Leonard snatched them back and tried to put them on him.

Spock took a long step back. "I do not require your assistance."

"Then stop acting like you've never seen a pair of gloves before!"

"None so woolly, certainly, Doctor."

Leonard sniffed. "Afraid to call me Leonard, Spock?"

"Negative."

Leonard turned back to the data feed. "Then I'm offended." A moment later, Spock stepped into his periphery. The Vulcan was wearing the gloves. Leonard suppressed a small smile and glanced sidelong at him. "Don't suppose you know where Jim got to?"

Spock slowly crossed his arms and stared up at the brightly lit board as well. "I would surmise that he has over-packed and is subsequently delayed at the baggage check... Leonard."

Leonard did smile. "I'd reach over and take your hand, darlin', but then your ears would turn a pretty green and people would stare because it isn't a common thing to see a Vulcan blush."

Still staring straight ahead, Spock's only reaction was to lift one of his eyebrows.

Leonard rocked forward with a slight bounce, his foul mood from that morning gradually lightening at the thought of a little mischief. "You realize I didn't want to go on this trip, right?"

"Jim decided it was necessary."

"Which means _you_ didn't really want to go on this trip either. Tell me, exactly how far do we go in letting Jim run roughshod over our rights in this relationship?"

Spock looked at him, then. "Is this a serious question?"

"That depends on your answer."

Spock exhaled a little more sharply through his nose than usual.

Leonard grinned. "I guess I'm being particularly obtuse today, aren't I?"

"Since you commented on that fact, I can only assume you seek to provoke me intentionally, Doctor."

Leonard's hand darted out and grabbed onto one of Spock's, squeezing it. "And that, just then, was a jab of your own. You know, I think I really do like you, Spock." He dropped Spock's hand as he heard a clump-clump behind them.

Spock turned to look with him but it was still to Leonard that he murmured, "It is mutual."

Together they watched Jim drag a large bag out of a roller cart and give one of the cart's wheels an irritated glare.

"You should've just packed the essentials," Leonard scolded him.

"Everything's essential," the man argued back before dropping a rueful look to his belongings. "But apparently the port security deemed these less essential than most. I rented a locker. We can pick them up on the way back."

"Or hope somebody steals 'em in the meantime," Leonard side-whispered to Spock. "Before Jim I had never met a man with such terrible taste in casual clothes."

"I heard that, Bones."

"Then pray I don't put a 'Toxic - Please Dispose' sign on the front. Really, Jim-boy, you ought to take Uhura and Chekov up on their offer to act as your personal shoppers. They at least have sensible taste." Leonard bounced on the balls of his feet. "Spock agrees with me, don't you, Spock?"

"I am of no opinion on this matter."

"He left out the part _which won't get me into trouble_."

"Bones," Jim said his name, exasperated. "Are you going to be like this the whole time?"

Leonard widened his grin. "What d'you mean?"

Jim shared a look with Spock then turned and started to walk, nearly dragging his bag of clothes on the ground.

Spock touched Leonard lightly at the small of his back, a tacit prompt for him to follow Jim. Leonard tugged down on the flaps of his faux beaver cap and did just that.

* * *

Brochure in hand, Spock regaled them with the history behind their upcoming tour as they boarded the ship with the other guests. The fact that he did not once refer to the document in his hand told Jim that Spock had researched this trip thoroughly the moment he knew they were going. Every once and a while McCoy would chime in with a snort and a diversion, pointing out another portion of the cruiser that looked unsafe.

Having had his fill of this, Jim laid a hand against the back of Leonard's neck and said, "Don't worry, she'll fly."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Jim."

Spock blinked at them both. "The ship's dual engine rooms are manned by the Yar, an extremely reclusive race renowned for their mastery of the engineering sciences. They built their first space-ready vessel, merely that of a pod but quite functional, during a period of civil unrest. Because their planet's natural metals had been nearly depleted, they used a combination of a polyalloy and material not unlike that of latinum—"

"Fascinating, Spock," Jim and Leonard interrupted him together.

"Tell us all about it later," added Jim. "I want to find our room."

"Please, lord," muttered the human at Kirk's side, "let the bed be larger than the size of a pea. Or at least let there be two beds."

Amused, Jim asked, "What's a second bed needed for, Bones?"

"In case the first is your standard cruise ship bunk. Otherwise we'll be sleeping stacked up like chips on a poker table. I prefer my comfort, thanks." As Jim opened his mouth, Leonard wagged a finger at him. "And don't you say you're my comfort. I'm positive there will be a couch, which is where you'll be!"

Jim doubted that. He had ways of ensuring his comfort, too. He smiled devilishly at the pair. To Jim's infinite satisfaction, Leonard averted his eyes, the skin just beneath the collar of his shirt coloring red.

He might have said or done something to push the man a little farther if at that moment someone had not bumped into him from behind. Jim turned in time to catch and steady... her.

Beneath wispy, dark material of a headscarf, she had kohl-lined eyes, aristocratic cheekbones, and the faintest set of ridges adorning the bridge of her nose, much like a Bajoran.

"Hello," Jim said, unable to subdue the smooth quality to his voice in time. A beautiful female, especially one who caught him off guard, always brought his Kirkian charm to the forefront. But he cleared his throat and toned it down quickly, because while he might like and appreciate the fairer sex, he knew it was a fine line between being charming and making someone feel like they were being targeted, disrespected, or objectified. That shouldn't exist in this day and age, to his mind, but sadly it did.

Plus, he wasn't a free man anymore.

That thought had him relaxing his shoulders. He set her properly on her feet and stepped back to allow her passage, as that is obviously what she had been intent on doing, if somewhat in haste.

"Thank you, sir," the woman murmured, and disappeared down the hall.

Jim looked after her only a moment before returning his attention to his two favorite people. Spock was already pointing out the direction of the guest cabins. Jim clapped a hand to either man's shoulder and said, "Let's settle ourselves then find dinner. I'm starving!"

Leonard closed his eyes and made a noise of despair. "I forgot. It's all-you-can-eat buffet on these things, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Jim agreed, already knowing Leonard's response.

"Start with a salad at least, Jim. Doctor's orders!"

He squeezed the man's shoulder. "You're not my doctor right now, Bones... but I'll consider it." With that, he pushed ahead of them and went in search of their quarters.

* * *

"Casta!"

The male, when he caught up, jerked the female by her arm into a shadowy corner away from the noisy tourists filling the corridors and any possible prying eyes.

"You fool," he spat at her, "do you want us caught?"

She reached up and dug her fingers into his scalp. "Let go of me, Commander, or I swear by the great Kai, I will take an eye."

He did, but his expression of disgust did not lessen. "You almost made a spectacle of yourself."

"I tripped." She plucked at the sleeve of her robe. "In this ridiculous garb it was bound to happen."

"Still, we cannot—"

Casta lifted her hand. "At this time I care not for your words. Show me to the room and the item. Then perhaps I will listen."

He spoke in a language that needed no translating device for the female to garner its meaning. She pushed past him and back into the hallway.

At length, he followed.

* * *

_Tap. Tap-tap._

That Captain James T. Kirk felt happy was evident. Only a fool could miss it.

_Tap._

But down, down, far beneath it all there must be a whisper.

_Tap-tap._

A tiny whisper which counted every second, for good things only lasted so long before bad things returned.

_Tap._ The finger ceased to its rhythm against the metal rail, and its owner retracted his hand from sight.

Oh yes. When Bad Things returned.


	2. Part Two

**I've really got no excuse for this story except that I need the mcspirk fluff in my life right now.**

* * *

**Part Two**

"If I had a dime for every time..." came the low mutter.

"Doctor, I believe I have mentioned on numerous occasions that it is illogical to make an outdated reference when in fact it has no relevant bearing on the parameters by which we operate today."

"Oh shut it, Spock. Can't you see I'm busy here!"

Jim leaned against the doorjamb, watching the two silhouettes in the low lighting of the room. Their bickering was more good-natured than it appeared. Bones and Spock, in his humble opinion, argued like two prickly children on a playground; not because they disliked each other but simply as a way to make certain that they had each other's undivided attention. Of course, some would call that silly but Jim thought it amusing. And more importantly, their interaction—whether gentle, harsh or otherwise—soothed a worry of his that his closest companions shared no mutual interest at all. He knew without a doubt that he could not juggle two separate relationships. The effort would never succeed, and the three of them would inevitably find themselves in a miserable position.

But watching Leonard and Spock tonight he knew no such problem existed. Leonard counterbalanced his sharp remarks with surreptitious touches to Spock's forearm, and Spock's dark eyes held a glitter that meant he was enjoying himself.

Jim was loathe to interrupt the pair but it seemed his presence had not gone unnoticed.

Leonard angled his head in the man's direction. "Finished?" he asked.

"It's all yours," Jim replied, stepping from the bathroom's entrance.

Leonard bumped his shoulder into Spock's as he moved past the Vulcan and manuevered his way around their luggage. Jim waited until the last second before he deliberately stepped into Leonard's path.

Leonard paused, then, to study him. "Something you want, Jim-boy?"

Jim smiled. "Don't be long, Bones. I'll miss you."

"Jim..." Leonard rolled his eyes. "Rein it in for a night, would you? Some of us have other priorities."

"Such as?"

"Dinner," supplied the ever-helpful Spock.

Jim cut his eyes at the Vulcan with the silent accusation _whose side are you on?_

"Exactly," agreed Leonard, blue eyes twinkling. "Dinner."

Jim turned away. "I don't know why I bother with you two."

"Because you know you're lucky to have us. Now hop outta my way, Jimny Kirk, before I move you myself."

Jim was half-tempted to make Bones follow up on that threat, but he decided it was wiser to concede the small battles so that Leonard was more inclined to let him win the bigger ones.

"Jimny?" Spock questioned, coming to stand beside Kirk as Leonard disappeared into the bathroom.

"It's a play on a character's name—Jimny Cricket, from the tale of Pinocchio." As Spock inquisitively raised an eyebrow, Jim promised, "I'll read you the story later."

Turning his attention back to the closed bathroom door, Spock folded his arms and said, "I am certain I will find it most interesting."

Jim couldn't help it. He laughed.

Yes, he thought, this was definitely the only place he wanted to be.

* * *

"What do you mean _'it isn't here'?_"

Casta lifted her hand as if to strike the face of the one who had offended her, but she remembered in time to restrain her anger and reluctantly lowered her hand.

For once, her companion had no sharp rejoinder. With his back facing her, Casta could not discern his expression. This irritated her.

"It should have been here," she heard him mutter.

Casta pressed her mouth into a thin line and closed her eyes briefly. "This one task... I entrusted you to do this one, simple task and yet you failed. I suppose I should not be surprised. You _are_ a heretic."

He whirled around and his arm snapped forward as if to shake her. "How dare you!"

"Find it," she ordered, unafraid of his rage, "before I think to take the price of your incompetency from your skin."

His eyes bugged. "You wench, it isn't my fault! Not even a Vedek would carry that thing in plain sight aboard a Federation-sanctioned vessel. It is the crewmen of this ship who are incompetent, not I—they who cannot discern the owner of a single package!" At this, he kicked the nearest object, a chair, and sent it toppling across the tiny room.

Casta flicked a cold glance at the frustrated male. "I don't want your excuses, Ves. I want the Orb. Never forget that without it, you and I are both dead."

She watched him clench his fists and knew, as he did, that he could not argue the point with her.

"Find it," she reiterated, and left.

* * *

A brown-haired man lifted his head high, straining to see over the crowd of the dining room.

"He's loading up his plate—I just know it!" Leonard gripped the top rung of his chair and tried to lengthen his spine another quarter of an inch. "Blast it, he's going to get indigestion, and then he'll whine all night." The man pursed his mouth. "Well, you know what I'm going to say then? Suck it up, Jim!"

"Leonard."

Leonard held out for a moment longer before slumping down into his seat and turning around to face his companion. With a disgruntled expression, he picked up his fork. The Vulcan across from him had not ceased to calmly eat in the meantime.

"If it is important to you to select his food choices, should you not have gone with him?"

"I may care about Jim's health, Spock, but it's not my place to pick his food for him like he's a little child."

"You do not seem to follow that philosophy on the ship."

"That's different. I'm his physician then, not his lover. Besides, _somebody_ has to step in when he's stressed. Otherwise he would eat himself into a stupor."

"Ah." Following a pause, Spock inquired, "Why is it only Jim's diet with which you choose to concern yourself?"

Leonard gave a slight snort. "Because you're sensible. He's not."

"Why, thank you, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard froze with his fork in mid-descent towards a small mound of pasta salad and raised wide eyes to Spock. Then he flushed abruptly and changed his expression to something less surprised as he hastily corrected, "I mean, you're sensible_sometimes_."

Spock made a noise of agreement and, unprompted, transferred a spoonful of food from his plate to McCoy's.

Leonard looked down at what was one of his favorite desserts from the dessert tray and narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to pull a psychologist's trick on somebody with a degree in psychology?"

"Of course not," demurred the Vulcan.

"Hobgoblin," Leonard muttered. He turned his plate, slid it closer to him so that the dessert was within easy reach, and scooped it up warily but ate it nonetheless.

Spock watched him with a pleased look in his eyes.

Nearly blushing, Leonard wiped his mouth with the napkin from his lap, shoved his plate away and then pushed himself from the table. "Going to the bathroom," he murmured to Spock, and left.

It was not long after Leonard's departure that Jim returned to their table bearing a plate in one hand, its tower of food stacked so high that it wobbled. He sat down, retrieved an utensil and began stirring things while taking a surreptitious glance around the main dining room. "Where's Bones?"

"He excused himself to find a restroom. I suspect however that he forewent the nearest facilities in favor of our quarters so that he might also pick up some medication given the possibility of indigestion."

Jim seemed to understand whose indigestion Spock meant and gave a small smile. He ate a piece of fruit about to fall off the side of his plate, then poked at something that looked like a fat, grey noodle but was in fact a slug considered to be a delicacy only to a few races. "I really don't want all of this."

Spock said nothing and resumed his meal.

Several minutes passed with the scraping of silverware until Jim said, "I think he's been gone too long."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "Jim, I know you have attempted to explain this behavior to me before, but I feel I do not fully understand it. Why must one of you preoccupy himself with the doings of the other on such a frequent basis?"

Jim propped his elbows on the table and laced his fingers as he leaned forward. "Because Bones is nosy, and I'm possessive." He smiled. "We're not perfect, Spock."

"I am aware of this... yet I would contend that neither are you flawed."

Jim's smile reflected the warmth in his eyes as he suddenly reached across the table. He stopped short of touching Spock though, letting his hand hover in a silent request. Spock closed the remaining distance. They held hands for a long time, no words needed between them.

"Gone for a second," said a voice out of the crowd, "and already you two are putting on a public display."

"We're not doing anything much," Jim argued in their defense, even as he straightened and pulled his hand from Spock's.

"Oh, c'mon, Jim. You and I don't know enough about Vulcan hand hanky-panky to fill the page of a book, and Spock's not telling."

"I have shared the basics with you."

"So what's hand-holding symbolize on Vulcan?"

"I assure you the meaning is quite innocuous, Doctor."

"That's Leonard to you."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Jim interrupted. "We can have this discussion later. Let's eat."

Leonard stole Jim's fork out of his hand and gave it to Spock. Then he took a position by Jim's shoulder. "Let's see what's on your plate first, Jim."

"You're such a martinet."

Leonard ignored him. "You don't need that cake. It's full of sugar. And what are those fried things?" The man gasped. "My god, is that a Denebian slugworm? You can't digest that!"

Jim ran a hand up Leonard's back. "There's a salad on the bottom."

Leonard stared at him. Then he broke into a grin. "You're something else, Jim Kirk."

"I could say the same of you, Leonard McCoy."

Spock folded his hands on the top of the table. "Jim, your tactic for flirting is fascinating but also quite wasteful."

"I'm fairly certain the slugworms are replicated. They're too expensive for this outfit to buy them fresh."

"Damn," remarked Leonard. "The only thing I liked in the brochure was the promise of replication-free meals. What's a man gotta do to get organic food matter on this rickety boat?"

"Promises or not, we're in the far reaches of space," Jim replied, amused. "It's never likely to happen, Bones. You know that."

Leonard crossed his arms. "Well, this is why I said we should wait until we were close to Earth."

"Which was two, possibly three months out." Jim dropped his hand down to the table. "The crew needed the break now."

The doctor's expression softened. "I know, Jim. I meant for us."

Tapping a finger on the tabletop, Jim was silent for a moment, then admitted, "Maybe I needed this time. To be with you."

Leonard glanced at Spock, and they shared an unspoken agreement. Then Leonard uncrossed his arms and took his seat.

"Can't complain about that." He sniffed as Spock returned the stolen fork to Jim. "I guess you can have the cake—but not the fried things."

Jim laughed, sat forward, and dug in.

* * *

_Tap. Tap tap._

Captain Kirk had no shame. He flaunted his happiness in front of everyone, as if it were seemly for a commanding officer to be intimate with his subordinates.

Disgusting.

And another one of Kirk's flaws.

The fingers stopped tapping in order to lift a wine glass with only a mouthful of drink left. A waiter slipped by the table, lifting up an empty plate with a deftness that spoke of years of practice.

The glass was drained, and the tapping resumed.

Perhaps it was time to begin. There were still hours left in the evening for a surprise.

* * *

When on vacation, Leonard tended to slow down his normal pace by half and it was only the foolish who tried to speed him up. By contrast, Jim had boundless energy to expend—with the exception that he preferred not to move much after a large meal. Thus at the moment he was content to amble alongside Leonard through the main thoroughfare of the ship, leaving Spock to shorten his stride to match theirs. Earlier they had made a brief visit to the Recreation deck but agreed unanimously that any leisurely activities of the variety offered by the cruise liner could wait until the following day.

Truly, there seemed to be all the time in the galaxy to get where they were going. None of them were inclined to hurry.

"Just another day in paradise," said Jim.

One of his companions snorted. "Yeah, to some. For the rest, it's sunstorms and disease and religious uprisings—or don't you read the news?"

"What about all of the new scientific wonders, the medical advancements and altruistic acts of our neighbors? Or don't you read _those_ parts?" Jim countered.

Leonard rolled his eyes.

"I review the daily feed in its entirety," Spock offered.

The two humans exchanged slight smiles.

Leonard said, "I'm sure glad we have a Vulcan in our midst."

"Thank you for the compliment, Leonard. It is most unfortunate that I do not have a treat with which to reward you."

"AH-HA!" Leonard cried. "I _knew_ you were trying to make a monkey of me!"

"Do I want to know?" Jim asked.

"I figured out Spock's master plan. He's tryin' to train us to be good little humans."

"It is not Jim who requires training."

Jim burst out laughing as Leonard sputtered.

"Fine. Wonderful. Keep on laughing. When's our first portside dock?"

Jim reined in his amusement and huffed. "We just boarded, Bones. You can't be that antsy to get off."

"Have you ever known me to like being on a ship, Jim?"

"You tolerate the Enterprise fairly well," Jim pointed out.

"Only 'cause nobody will cough up my retirement check yet."

Jim placed a hand over his heart. "I'm wounded. Are you saying Spock and I aren't incentive enough to stay in space?"

Leonard mumbled something.

"It seems that Leonard has a preference for living together on a farm in Georgia."

Leonard scowled at Spock. "Tattle-tale."

Smiling, Jim slipped an arm around Leonard's waist. "I wouldn't mind that. But you know," he added slyly, "Iowa has better farmland."

Leonard reached over and pinched the inside of Jim's arm, to which Jim responded by dragging the man closer until he stumbled a little and fell into him.

"Jim!" said Leonard indignantly. "Spock, tell him to let me go!"

"Jim, perhaps you should release Leonard."

"Bones likes being in my arms."

"No, I don't!"

"Of course you do. Spock, join us, won't you?"

"At this time I prefer not to."

"Look, it's fine. Nobody cares—_ow!_" Jim let go of Leonard and backed up with a grimace. "You kicked me."

"Darn right I did," said Leonard, glaring at him.

"You _kicked_ me, Bones."

"When a grown man wants you not to grope him in public, you oughta listen."

"I wasn't groping you! I was massaging your back!"

"Your hands weren't high enough for that!"

Spock stepped between them. "We are drawing attention."

Leonard immediately quieted. His shoulders curled inward in discomfort at the perceived interest of others.

Jim stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm. "Sorry, Bones," he murmured.

Leonard patted his hand. "It's all right. You know I don't really mind, Jim. I guess it's just hard for me to shake the mindset from the usual one... being discreet 'n all."

Jim nodded. "I understand."

And he did. While they had all agreed that they would not deny it if someone asked them directly, they didn't advertise the fact that they were in a relationship. Not aboard the Enterprise; not when on duty. Most days, Jim had to be a captain first.

That was why he needed his time with them so badly.

Spock broke the contemplative silence by saying, "Should I stop by the service desk to acquire a docking schedule?"

The anxiety in Leonard's eyes began to fade away.

Jim said, "That would be great. Thanks, Spock. Could you pick up the itinerary, too, for the constellation viewings?"

"Affirmative."

"Only you," Leonard complained to Jim as Spock turned around and went back the way they had come, "would want to stargaze on a honeymoon."

A sharpness entered Jim's gaze. "Is this a honeymoon?"

"Well it's not like we ever had one."

The man made a rumbling deep in his chest. "Bones, you are too much of a romantic." He touched Leonard's cheek before pulling back and beginning to walk along the corridor. "Besides... there's nothing wrong with looking at the stars."

"Not for people who don't sail around in starships every day."

"This is a tour of the Lorenti Cluster. What else are we supposed to do?"

"My god, how can you ask me that? I thought the only reason you planned this thing was to..." Leonard trailed off as Jim cut a sideways glance at him.

Jim chuckled. "Is it wrong to like a little pleasure too?"

"Jim," his companion sighed but there was an undercurrent of amusement in the sound. "Never mind."

"If you're worried, I promise to give you all the attention you desire."

Leonard brushed shoulders with him as they walked. "Some things I don't worry about."

"Good," replied Jim. "Which deck are we on?"

"You shouldn't have sent Spock away. You know I don't remember things like that."

They entered a lift at the intersection of two corridors and Jim pressed their key card to its touchpad. It would deliver them to the correct floor. They spent the remainder of their time in the lift teasing each other.

* * *

A ship full of tourists was always bustling. Jim and Leonard passed a few couples in the hall and a family whose kids pelted ahead and nearly mowed them down in their excitement. Then there was a woman, head lowered, who rushed to squeeze past them and the little kid who had unerringly attached himself to Jim's leg. Jim appeared torn between detaching the octopus-like boy and staring after the stranger with a puzzled expression on his face.

Finally they rounded the corner nearest their room, slightly rumpled and mostly unmolested. Jim glanced ahead and abruptly slowed.

Leonard looked ahead too and had to double-check the room number above the door. He cursed. "What in blazes...?"

"Bones."

"That's our room, Jim! What happened?"

Their door stood partially ajar, as though its sliding mechanism had become stuck in the process of opening and closing. Then he noticed the digital pad beside the door, black around its edges, and the odor in the air.

_Electrical fire,_ he thought.

Jim stood eyeing the door for a long time before he moved forward and ran a hand along its steel edge. He pushed against it and muttered, "Jammed."

"Jim," Leonard said, swallowing, "if this is what it looks like—"

Jim shook his head slightly.

Leonard quieted.

Jim laid a hand on Leonard's shoulder and squeezed it in a wordless command of _stay here._Then he slipped one leg through the opening and then another into the dark, eerily silent interior of the cabin beyond.

Leonard had the sudden desperate urge for a phaser. Too many times since the start of their five-year mission had they walked into dangerous situations poorly armed or armed not at all; and every time it scared him that one of them would be cut down before anyone could react.

Leonard didn't voice his concern, however. Jim was trained for this, as was he.

He moved into the room on Kirk's heels and heard a soft snort. Jim had probably expected him to do no less than disobey the command to stay put. Leonard gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim emergency lighting before he branched out slightly to the left.

Jim whispered, "Careful."

Whoever had been in their cabin was gone, it seemed, but he had left behind plenty of damage in his wake. All of their travel containers had been upended onto the floor. Leonard could make out bits of his medkit from the bathroom strewn across the coverlet of the bed.

Jim prowled to the far side and the closet, which stood open and empty. Leonard turned towards the bathroom.

"Jim?" a voice called as a shadow filled the open entrance to their room. "Leonard?"

"We're fine, Spock," Jim said in a hushed tone. "Looks like a break-in."

Spock hesitated a moment, as if he fought the urge to look them over for himself, but at last took a step back into the hall to study the locking mechanism.

Leonard's fear had tapered off but a sense of unease stayed with him. "Jim," he said quietly to gain the man's attention. Then he pointed to the bathroom.

Jim came to stand beside him and looked from the closed door to him and back again. If they had interrupted a crime in progress, the criminal would certainly hide there, having no other option. Jim looked at Leonard again.

Leonard shook his head slightly, meaning that he had no intention of leaving Jim to open it alone.

Jim's thinly pressed mouth quirked at one corner before he motioned for Leonard to take a position on the right side where he wouldn't be in the line of sight.

Leonard held his breath as the door registered Jim's presence and slid open. Light spilled into the room without the usual flash, which meant it had already been engaged inside the bathroom.

But luckily nobody came dashing out alongside the light.

The change in Jim's expression had Leonard moving to his side in a heartbeat. Once he saw what Jim saw, he pushed past Kirk and dropped to his knees beside the humanoid figure stuffed between the toilet and sink.

Spock appeared behind Jim, saying, "The door was forced after an electrical charge of significant voltage was delivered to the keypad, but I cannot tell if—" He stopped speaking as soon as his gaze fell upon their discovery.

"Bones?" Jim questioned, his voice tight.

Leonard looked up at the man who was his lover, friend, and captain. "He's dead, Jim."


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

Jim pulled a chair near the bed and handed Spock a mug with steam rising from it along with the promise "It's not replicated."

Spock accepted the mug. "Thank you."

Jim craned his head for a better look at the data padd balanced on Spock's knee. "Work?" he questioned.

"No. I thought to finish perusing my sources on the Yar."

"Ah."

Sitting back, Jim took a sip from his own cup (of coffee, as opposed to Spock's tea) then ran fingers through his short hair. He hadn't woken up that long ago, hadn't showered or done more than rummage through their decent-sized kitchen and make use of the complimentary coffee and tea packets. It had taken a while for all of them to fall asleep once they had been released from questioning by the ship's commanding officer.

At that thought, his gaze landed on the lump of covers next to Spock on the bed.

Spock flicked a glance in Jim's direction. "He is not asleep."

Jim suppressed a grin when he heard a muffled "_I am too!_"

"Bones," he pointed out, "you might as well get up. It's of no use lying there."

The bed covers came down enough to reveal unruly brown hair. "Why? So we can find more dead bodies?"

Jim gave the top of Leonard's head an exasperated look. "Bones."

The man flung back the covers and sat up. With wild hair and pillow creases on his face, Leonard's look of exasperation was much more comical than Kirk's.

"We can't get on one ship—_one ship_—without disaster striking! Now whose fault do you think that is?"

"No one's," input Spock.

"That question was for Jim!"

"Are you blaming me?" Jim asked a bit sharply.

Leonard's disgruntled expression held out for another second before he deflated. "No—no, Jim, I'm not blaming you. It's just bad luck. Honest-to-God bad luck."

Spock set his padd on the bedside table. "Leonard, when the ship docks at Starbase 45, we can leave if that is what you wish."

"Absolutely," Jim agreed, meaning it. "I didn't sign us up for a murder mystery." He stifled a pang of disappointment. "We'll go home."

Leonard had always been able to see right through him. "I know you're disappointed, Jim. I am too." He glanced away. "But getting off this ship isn't an option anymore. Well, for me at least—as a murder suspect." He turned his gaze back to them, looking grimly amused.

Jim wasn't amused at all. He had to stop himself from snapping out that that was nonsense because a show of temper would be taken amiss. Jim clutched at his coffee cup instead. "You're not, Bones."

"Right... as if saying, 'I vouch for his character' is enough to get me off the hook." Leonard shook his head slightly. "Thanks, by the way. At least they didn't lock me up in the brig for the night."

"To do so would have been highly illogical. You have an alibi."

"Alibis don't matter without a time of death, Spock."

"Which," Jim pointed out, "they should know by now."

"Maybe," Leonard muttered, his tone indicating his lack of confidence in the ship's medic.

Jim wanted to comfort him but he also knew that Leonard wouldn't tolerate any babying. He shrugged his shoulders and said, somewhat mischievously, "At least we got a swanky room out of it."

Leonard heaved a sigh and flopped back down on the bed to fling an arm over his eyes. "Oh, yes, the silver lining!" he said dramatically. "Silk sheets."

"I think them strange," Spock remarked.

"'Cause they are! Who in their right mind pays a month's salary for these?"

Jim bit his bottom lip.

Leonard chuckled and said without removing the arm from his eyes, "Jim's looking guilty right about now, isn't he?"

"Affirmative."

"Enough, you two," retorted Jim. "I won't apologize for my superior taste in bed sheets."

"If it's anything like your taste in clothes, 'superior' ain't the word, Jim-boy."

"_Bones_," he growled playfully.

Sticking his mug on the table beside Spock's, Jim reached across Spock's legs to grab at Leonard. Leonard used the opportunity to latch onto Jim's shoulders and roll him into bed. They grappled for a moment, settled for a kiss, then broke apart with a grin. Jim laid a hand on the top of Spock's thigh, pleased when the Vulcan's fingers wandered across the back of his hand.

Leonard seemed content to stay squished between them.

Jim was thinking that there was nothing on this ship that would be more enticing than staying in bed with these two today when the door chimed.

"Well, there comes Life a'knockin'," said Leonard dryly.

With a groan, Jim dropped his forehead to the bedspread.

"And, look, Spock's gettin' up to answer the door. Hey, Hobgoblin, put on a shirt! There's no need to put that chest on display for everybody in the galaxy."

Jim turned his face into Leonard's shoulder and laughed.

A hand patted the top of his head lazily.

"I love you, Bones."

"Sure, darlin'. I love you too. Now move over. If we're going to have guests, I should at least look decent and not like I've been rolling around in the hay with Jim Kirk."

Jim pulled back and propped his head up on his fist. "You know, I would love to show you Iowa, Bones." He let his smile widen into a grin. "And we could definitely work on that hay fantasy of yours."

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when Leonard shoved a pillow into his face and leapt away with a grin of his own. The man had a playful side that few ever saw, something Jim loved about him.

Jim knocked away the pillow and slid off the bed with the notion of following Leonard into the bathroom to see how far he could take their 'game' when Spock appeared at the opening of the short hallway that led to the other areas of their new accommodations.

"Jim, Captain Roraqk and his second-in-command are here and wish to speak with you."

With regret, Jim placed aside his plans for Bones and nodded his acceptance. "All right. Give me a minute to find a robe."

Spock studied him, head tilted in such a way that meant he was thinking about something very diligently.

"Why don't you entertain Bones?" suggested Jim, indicating the closed bathroom door. "I can handle Roraqk."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes." He knew that Spock would understand.

And the Vulcan did. Spock headed to the bathroom to keep Leonard occupied while Jim held a private conversation with someone who could potentially ruin their entire vacation.

* * *

Never in a million light years did Essler imagine he would occupy the same starship as James Tiberius Kirk. Now he didn't have to imagine it.

It was better than earning his lieutenant's stripes. It was better than his first encounter with space pirates, and that one time he tried the highly intoxicating Bolian Brew, which had been outlawed in at least _seven_ different sectors of the quadrant.

James T. Kirk. _Captain_ Kirk.

Last night the man had said, "Call me Jim."

Now Essler could call him _Jim!_

As they approached Kirk's quarters, he was too slow to stifle an excited squeak. Roraqk turned to glare at him, and the young officer had the distinct impression that if he didn't contain himself within a nanosecond, Roraqk would use one of his claws to eviscerate him.

Damn. And he hadn't been in this position very long.

The pair came abreast of the double doors that marked the most expensive suite on the ship which, ironically, had been the only available space to relocate their passengers. Roraqk had nearly thrown the special key card at Kirk and his companions following the end of an hours-long interrogation and had told them to stay there and stay put. The ship's captain had a gruff manner on a good day, but Essler didn't think last night had cast him in the best light by a long shot.

Personally, he was of the opinion that Kirk deserved the affluence and comfort of the suite, or better. If he had known the greatest hero of the Federation was on the _Maiden_'s roster (and why hadn't he checked for that possibility, why?!), he would have tried to assign Kirk to the Captain's Quarters.

Imagine, working under a guy like Jim Kirk!

Essler must have let his excitement slip again because this time Roraqk growled an order at him that, even un-translated, meant _shut the hell up_.

The young man grinned. "We're here, sir," he said unnecessarily and went for the door chime.

"Stand down, Lieutenant-Commander."

Essler ducked his head a little and shuffled back behind his superior.

Roraqk contemplated the door with a sour expression and a hint of pointed teeth. When he jabbed at the call system like it had personally offended him, Essler wanted to tell him to lighten up. Of course, doing that could potentially cost him his salary (not to mention his life) so he felt it was wiser to keep his advice to himself.

A companion of Kirk's and a Vulcan who honestly hadn't needed to introduce himself as Kirk's First, Mr. Spock (Essler could recite the names of Kirk's alpha crew by heart; he liked to stay up-to-date) let them in to the foyer. Essler tried surreptitiously to peek around Mr. Spock for signs of his hero as Roraqk said in his usual straightforward and rather rude way, "So you didn't skip out during the shipnight. Guess that's a point in your favor. Now, your captain—bring him here."

"Yes, please! Can we speak to Captain Kirk again?" Essler added.

The Vulcan didn't visibly react to either of their requests, although his gaze did seem rather cool when it considered Roraqk.

Essler had no intentions of leaving without seeing Kirk. He straightened and gave the Vulcan his best smile. "Mr. Spock, I apologize profusely that we might have disturbed you at an inconvenient time, but it is a matter of urgency. Please, might we have a moment with all of you to discuss..." Upon seeing the twitchiness of his captain's left eye, Essler lowered his voice. "... last night's affair?"

"There has been much discussion on the matter," the Vulcan replied mildly. "You have our statements. Therefore I see no value in revisiting what is already known."

Essler leaned in. "Yes, but now we have a cause of death!"

"I would talk with your doctor again also," Roraqk said.

"No."

Wow... Essler had never met a Vulcan who could sound so politely unyielding as this one. Then again, technically Mr. Spock was the first Vulcan to cross his path. He had long since decided (that was, as of last night) that if Kirk was vacationing with Mr. Spock, then Mr. Spock had to be a very upstanding fellow.

Come to think of it, though... Essler had some misgivings over their third companion. It wasn't just because the man could be a murderer, of course, but also due to the fact that Dr. McCoy had had a lot of things to say earlier on about the competency of their staff. None of those things had been nice.

But Kirk obviously trusted the man and had vouched for him, so once again Essler would give this McCoy the benefit of the doubt.

At that moment, Essler realized with some chagrin that both Roraqk and Mr. Spock were staring at him. Clearly he had let his mind wander too long as he pondered the qualities of the men accompanying Captain Kirk (which would, of course, be honorable qualities but not quite up to par with Kirk himself).

"Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't you say we could meet with the Captain?"

"I did not," replied Mr. Spock.

"Oh."

Roraqk made a noise between a grunt and a groan. "Just bring one of them out, Vulcan, before I have to fire this squirt for poor taste."

Essler's hand shot up. "It has to be Kirk!"

Mr. Spock gave them a scrutinizing stare for a moment longer before he replied, "Very well," and left them standing in the foyer.

Roraqk bared his teeth and hissed, "I dislike Vulcans."

"I'm sure Vulcans dislike you too, sir."

"Essler?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Shut up."

"Sorry, sir."

He wasn't sorry, though. Roraqk would never be as awesome as Jim Kirk, and they both knew it.

* * *

In the chilled, odorless air and low lighting of the engine rooms, the ship's most vital structure ran like clockwork, kept in prime condition by a maintenance crew who flitted from station to station with a presence hardly more discernible than shadows. Their feet made no sound on the gangways as they crossed and climbed. When they communicated to one another, their voices registered as quiet clicks and chitters that blended well with the hum of the surrounding machinery. To the ones who were unknown to them, they would not be seen or heard from at all. They were called the Yar. For those who worked aboard the _Star Maiden_, it was their home.

The Yar were most active when the rest of the ship slept. On this particular shipnight, one such was traveling the length of the tube that bridged the dual engine rooms. He stopped midway and released a hatch disguised on the outside to look like a corridor panel. His eyes, round and somewhat luminescent, appeared at the hatch's edge as he squatted low so he could peer into the corridor without being in full view. From the opening his spindly, cloth-clad arm stretched across the floor and drew towards the hatch a square object like a box with no lid. The Yar made a tiny click-clack of appreciation once he had it in his hands. He sealed the hatch and hurried through the rest of the tube with the gift tucked under an arm.

Elsewhere, a figure detached itself from a nook in the corridor and proceeded with soft footfalls in the opposite direction. The hiss of the turbolift doors could be heard as the observer left.

* * *

Jim was no fool. He knew a fan when he saw one.

"Hello, Commander," he said warmly as he came in view of Essler. To the captain, he gave the greeting, "Roraqk."

The slits in Roraqk's face, which might have served as nostrils on someone more humanoid in appearance, flared.

Essler's face lit up. "Captain Kirk!" the young man cried. He came forward in one great leap and pumped one of Jim's hands enthusiastically. "Good morning—and, well, sorry to say but it's Lieutenant-Commander, sir."

Jim smiled. "Oh, my apologies. Such a silly thing to forget." Although he hadn't forgotten in the least. "You're young, but you have the bearing of a commander."

Roraqk snorted and pushed his way in front of Essler. "Kirk, no need to inflate the squirt's ego needlessly. This isn't your Starfleet."

"Maybe I'm just saying he should have gone into Starfleet."

Essler flushed with pleasure.

Roraqk drew himself up to a formidable height, leaving no doubt that his reason for being there had nothing to do with listening to the humans praise each other.

Jim had a fought a Gorn nearly that big once. He appraised the captain's form, thinking that he would make a fine opponent in a fight. Unfortunately, the kind of fighting he had to do now was not physical. "Captain," he said, offering respect as one commander to another, "will you update me on the situation?"

Roraqk subsided a little bit, making a working motion with his large jaws. "Don't know that I should share information with a potential suspect."

So much for respect, Jim thought briefly.

"Oh, but _he's_ not a suspect!" interjected Roraqk's second-in-command. In fact, Essler looked downright appalled by the idea. "Captain Kirk, as of this morning you and your men are cleared of suspicion. We reviewed the ship's security logs and matched them to your statements. Also, we found evidence that the victim wasn't—"

Roraqk growled something unintelligible which was clearly a warning for Essler to stop.

The young officer dropped his gaze and shifted from foot to foot. "Um, I'm sorry, sir. I would tell you more but I am prohibited by—" Here Essler glanced at the looming presence of his displeased captain. "—regulation."

"In other words, we're not required to report to you."

Jim met Roraqk's gaze. "And if I demanded to know?"

"A Federation captaincy doesn't grant you privileges on my ship, Kirk."

Essler looked like he wished the ship's floor would swallow him up. Jim could sympathize—as ironically he also would have sympathized with Roraqk's position if it were not for Roraqk's belligerence that prevented their collaboration rather than a need to follow protocol in a delicate situation.

Jim nodded nonetheless, accepting the decision with a diplomacy he had learned to acquire through years of unpleasant confrontation. "What's our ETA to Starbase 45?"

"Two solar days," Roraqk told him. "The body's iced until then, and we're on alert for suspicious activity. Discretely, of course. The last thing I want is several hundred panicking tourists on my hands."

"If someone catches wind of the fatality onboard," Essler added, "we will try to avoid saying outright that it was murder."

Jim gave them a sharp look. "So you believe it's murder?"

"Yes," said Roraqk. "Unless someone comes forward with different information, we will proceed under that assumption."

"And the identity of the victim?" Jim asked softly.

Roraqk seemed to consider how much more he wished to reveal. At length he said, "The victim wasn't Federation-registered."

Damn, thought Jim. That could leave the case in the hands of an entirely different authority despite the crime being committed in Federation space. Intergalactic politics were never straightforward. Maybe there was a way he could demand an investigation from their side. Maybe—he stopped there, since those thoughts should be for later. Jim certainly didn't intend to share them with his current company.

"If it's any consolation to you," he told Roraqk, "I'd like to spend the next two days as I originally intended—and that's on vacation."

"Better for me."

No doubt. Jim smiled thinly. "Are you done with us, then?"

Roraqk conceded, "For now."

"But we'll check in frequently," piped up Essler, "to make certain you're safe."

Jim narrowed his eyes. "Do you think there's a reason to be concerned for our safety?" His tone said, _If there is, you had better tell me right now._

"No, Captain—I mean, Jim." Essler grinned and repeated. "Jim."

This boy was amusing. He felt himself relax. "Yes, it's Jim."

Roraqk rolled his eyes and turned away, marching out the door. "Squirt, let's go."

"Yes, sir!" cried the young man but he lingered, still grinning at Kirk.

"Essler!" bellowed his captain from the hallway.

Essler jumped and scurried out. He waved goodbye until the sliding door hid him from sight.

With folded arms, Jim stared at the closed door for a long time, trying to decide exactly how he felt about the encounter.

"Jim?"

Jim turned to find Leonard lingering in the archway leading to the bedroom, Spock at his back.

"How about breakfast?" he asked.

Leonard stepped forward. "What'd he say?"

Jim sighed. "It wasn't an accident."

"As we suspected," Spock pointed out.

"I told y'all it wasn't. I'm a doctor, for Christ's sake. I know an unnatural death when I see one. What else?"

"There is nothing else, Bones."

Leonard pressed his mouth into an unhappy line.

Jim didn't like his answer any better than Leonard did. "Bones."

"I get it, Jim. You can't tell me anything because you don't have anything to tell me." Leonard turned to leave but stopped to stare at a Vulcan shoulder that wasn't moving out of his way. "It's not you I'm angry at. I just don't think it's right."

"Bones," Jim tried again, "this isn't our ship. Officially, we're civilians here. While I don't know about you, I think the less we have to do with a murder investigation, the better off we are."

Leonard spoke to Spock's shoulder. "Somebody killed a man, Jim, in _our_ room. Doesn't that bother you?"

Spock placed a hand on Leonard's upper arm.

Jim closed the distance between them. "It bothers me. Actually... it frightens me."

Leonard lifted his head and looked back at him.

"I can't begin to guess why he was there," Jim continued on, "but I can be thankful that none of us were with him. Maybe that sounds selfish, Bones, but it's how I feel. I would rather accept the mystery of his death than risk our lives in trying to find the explanation for it. Bones... please. Let this one go."

"I know he's a stranger, Jim, but someone should care."

"Someone does," interceded Spock.

"Surely you don't mean the ship's captain. He's more worried about bad publicity than a killer running loose! Why else do you think he wished he could pin it on me and be done with it?"

"Regardless of motivation, the duty is his and not ours."

"Bones."

"Quiet, both of you! I can't think." Leonard pushed past Spock and disappeared down the hallway.

"I didn't think he would be like this," Jim said to Spock.

"He has no information with which to rationalize the death, and the notion of violence is intolerable to him. I would not expect him to react differently."

Jim eyed the Vulcan. "How did you come to know him so well?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Through no fault of my own."

"Implying that it was mine?"

"You were a common factor in the progression of our acquaintance."

"Spock, sometimes I can't tell if you are complimenting me or insulting me."

"In this case, it is neither. Leonard and I have persevered through a tumultuous history in large part due to your meddlesome nature."

"That," Jim decided, stroking Spock's arm, "was a compliment."

"Your ability to find light in the darkest corner never ceases to amaze me."

"What can I say? I was always a gifted child."

"Indubitably."

Leonard poked his head into the hallway. "Are you two done flirting? 'Cause I want breakfast."

Jim and Spock shared a look, weighing the unspoken apology. Spock nodded almost imperceptibly.

Jim smiled at Leonard. "Great idea, Bones. But first..." He turned up the wattage of his smile to a full-blown charm. "How about a shower?"

"I showered with Spock."

Jim punched Spock lightly in the arm. "You dog!"

Spock blinked.

"He's annoyingly methodical, even in the shower," Leonard remarked. "So maybe I could use a second one. Let's try the water this time. You were right, Jim: this suite has some swanky advantages."

"You don't have to ask me twice."

But Leonard held out his hand before Jim could take a single step in his direction. "I wasn't asking you, Jim. I was asking Spock."

There was a beat of silence while Leonard looked serious and Jim looked at Leonard like he couldn't_possibly_ mean what he said; then the moment collapsed with Leonard laughing hard enough that he had to hold onto the doorway, Jim flushing red, and Spock simply switching his gaze between the humans as if he had missed the joke.

"Bones, I'm going to kill you."

"Last one in the shower has to scrub the other two's backs!" Leonard declared and vanished.

Jim barked out a laugh of his own and started forward, stopped, and reached backwards to take a hold of Spock's hand. "Come on!" he said.

"Jim," the Vulcan protested as he was hurried along, "Jim—the size of the shower cubicle will not accommodate more than two persons."

"We'll fit."

"We will not fit."

"I said we'll fit. I have special abilities, remember?" Kirk added as he pushed Spock ahead of him into the bathroom. "I can _make_ this work." He paused with a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder and held Spock's gaze. "Do you doubt me, Spock?"

"Never, Jim" was the reply.

* * *

This was perfect.

Perfect.

A convenient murder, and suddenly Kirk was within reach.

Was it time for a visit, perhaps—neighbor to neighbor?

Then there would be a second body en route to the nearest starbase. How splendid!


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

There came the sound of loud pounding, followed closely by "Hurry up, Jim! Do you want good seats, or don't you?"

"Should I proceed ahead and reserve our place?"

"That's not a bad idea, Spock," Leonard said, turning away from a closed door. "As excited as Jim usually is, not even an act of God will get him out of the bathroom until he's fixed his hair just the way he likes it."

"I have noticed. Humans can be quite vain."

Smiling, Leonard flicked a finger at the straight line of Spock's bangs. "Well, we can't all be as immaculately groomed as a Vulcan."

"Indeed."

Just then, the bathroom door slid back and Jim came out, saying, "Were you talking about me?"

"You'd like to think that," Leonard retorted.

"Of course you were," decided Jim. "I'm ready now."

"That is fortunate," remarked Spock, tucking his hands into the sleeves of the Vulcan robe he had chosen to wear that day. "I estimate a delay of another ten point five minutes would reduce our options for seating to only a few solitary, unappealing choices."

"Plus, you're not making me stand up," Leonard pointed out to Jim, "so let's book it."

"'_Book it_', Bones? You say the strangest things."

Leonard took offense to that. "Strange? Your face is strange!"

Jim rubbed at his clean-shaven jaw as they moved towards the double doors of their suite. "No, I would say it's handsome."

"Move aside, Spock. Let Jim and his ego through first. It'll be a tight fit."

With a laugh, Jim strode ahead of them out the door and then, once in the corridor, turned around with hands on his hips and a hint of a smirk on his face.

Spock glanced at Leonard.

"I know," he murmured in response to the Vulcan's look. "How did we ever end up here?"

"Our hasty judgment of character."

"So in other words we were just smitten at the time, and now we're stuck with him."

"Naturally."

Their third companion cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I believe a discussion of my merits can be postponed until after the show."

"It's not your merits we were discussin', Jim," Leonard replied as he and Spock joined Jim in the hallway.

Jim situated himself in the middle and placed a hand on each back. He said, "As long as I still have you, you can complain all you want."

Leonard softened upon hearing this. "You know you'll always have us."

It was odd that as Jim looked away, a smile, almost sad, touched the corner of his mouth. "I know... I'm counting on it."

Leonard didn't know how to answer that, and he didn't think Spock did either. Then there was no time for a reply anyway as Jim's unusual mood melted away and he ushered them along the corridor towards the nearest lift.

* * *

The kind of star cruisers built for public thoroughfare in space were some of the ricketiest, most crowded, unhygienic death-traps a person could travel on but they had one thing going for them: their observation platform design. There wasn't a better view of the stars among current-day spacecraft to be found, including the constitution-class starships which were constantly re-engineered to be the most advanced space-faring vessels that the Federation employed.

And their seats, Spock had said, were optimally positioned for the show. Leonard had a feeling their sneaky Vulcan had reserved the seating far, far in advance.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Jim whispered, who was transfixed by the cluster of colorful stars and space dust above their heads.

In the dark of the auditorium, Leonard studied Jim's profile and, beyond Jim, Spock's. "They're beautiful," he whispered back.

Spock's gaze shifted slightly, caught his, but he did not comment on the fact that Leonard wasn't watching the stars. He would know whose beauty to which Leonard referred.

Leonard suppressed a ridiculous urge to reach across Jim and seek out the Vulcan's hand.

Spock's eyes held him a moment longer and just before they let Leonard go, he felt a caress that was not physical but affectionate nonetheless. To someone who had never experienced the telepathic abilities of a Vulcan, it would have been an unsettling sensation.

Leonard knew exactly how to respond. He concentrated as hard as he could on the cuteness of Spock's pointed ears and then he imagined pinching them.

Spock shifted minutely in his seat.

Leonard grinned. Apparently the message had gotten across.

A hand came out of the darkness, settled on Leonard's thigh, and squeezed it. It was a sign that Jim had an inkling as to what Leonard and Spock were up to under the guise of stargazing.

Leonard linked their fingers so that the silly fool wouldn't feel left out. Then, and only then, did he turn his attention towards the transparent ceiling and the mesmerizing sight beyond it.

* * *

The lights came up, and a computerized voice said, _On behalf of the captain and crew of the _Star Maiden_ and H.F.M. Entertainment Enterprises, we thank you for joining us on this tour through the Lorenti Cluster. The next showing will resume in fifteen minutes. Please follow the lighted walkways to your nearest exit._

"Are we staying?" Leonard asked, looking to Jim and Spock.

"I am amendable to a second viewing," Spock replied. "Within a few minutes, the cruiser should adjust its bearing sufficiently so that we will be able to see a diffuse molecular cloud covering a large area of the constellation. It is similar in size to the TMC*."

Jim's expression brightened with interest.

"I guess that settles that," Leonard muttered. "Since we've got a little time on our hands, I'm going to stretch my legs."

"All right, Bones. Spock, I thought I saw a nebula earlier on but the tour guide didn't point it out."

"What you saw were planetary nebulae, Jim, formed from the material left behind by this sector's last red giant. It was supposed at one time, some twelve million years ago, that the Lorenti Cluster had a sun which went supernova, spawning another nebula which, oddly, is less visible to our eyes than one would expect given its age. Its ionized gases have gained incredible mass, creating a dense area of space which light particles cannot fully penetrate. However I should be able to point out the nebula's neutron star. If my sources are accurate, it lies at the coordinates—"

Leonard left them to their discussion. Honestly, there were times when he thought Jim would have made an excellent scientist. He had the curiosity for it, and a passion for learning and exploration as well.

But there was no denying that the man was made for Command, too. Where a scientist wasn't always of the temperament to be a commander, Jim knew instinctively how to take the lead through the unknowns of their galaxy. Moreover, he could bear the burdens which came with such a demanding responsibility and didn't buckle or let those burdens ruin him.

In Leonard's opinion, Jim Kirk was a special man. He never wanted to be Jim, but Leonard knew why he wanted to be _with_ him.

The steady flow of people who had opted not to remain for the next show carried Leonard from the auditorium. He bumped into several others along the way without meaning to, once almost tripped on the edges of someone ensconced in robes much too long for them, and nearly found himself in the arms of a mother and babe, the latter of which grinned at him from behind a spit bubble and grabbed onto a fistful of his hair. It took a few minutes of coaxing from Leonard and the very amused mother to make the child let go.

He figured by this time that he ought to find a drink before he dared venture to the overcrowded restrooms. The bar in a small lounge located cattycorner to the main lobby was less busy and had an open chair at the end. Leonard slid into it and said to the bartender, "Mint julep, if you can manage it."

The Orion gave him an acknowledging glance and set about, Leonard supposed, in the task of preparing such a drink. He studied the bartender, thinking how unusual it was to see an Orion male on a charter cruise that was—well, simply put—_legal_. That wasn't to say all Orions took up the profitable venture of bootlegging and pirating but a good many of them did, being born on the city-ships that nomadic Orions called home while they traveled around the galaxy selling their wares. They were a race of merchants at heart who rather enjoyed having a roguish reputation.

The bartender caught him staring and came back, mint julep in hand, to say, "Like what you see?"

Leonard grinned. "Sorry, but I'm taken."

The Orion complained, "You stole my line." Then he grinned too, teeth startling white against his dark green skin. "How's the julep?"

Leonard tried it. "Not bad. It's not replicated, that's for sure. Thanks."

"Since we advertise that we don't replicate the good stuff, I would hate to be called a liar." The bartender tilted his head in the direction of a nearby hutch in the wall. "But if I don't know how to make it or if you prefer a more unappealing taste, the synthesizer is over there."

"Nope," replied Leonard, raising his glass slightly, "what I have is fine." He checked over his shoulder at the coming-and-goings of the other passengers in the lobby. The line at the restrooms had significantly diminished. "This is just a pit stop. Do I need to open a tab?"

The Orion handed him a padd. "Swipe your room card. The bill comes due at the end of the tour."

"Thought so," murmured Leonard. He downed the rest of his julep, knowing there truly wasn't time to savor it and make it back to Jim and Spock in time, and stood up. "Thanks," he said again.

"You're welcome. Come back anytime," said the Orion.

Leonard headed for the restroom at a brisk pace. Someone pushed in front of him into the facilities, and he made certain to give their trailing robe a wide berth this time. One of the stalls was occupied, the others empty. Leonard chose one at random and went for it.

That was his mistake, he would think later. He should have been suspicious of everything after finding a dead body on a vacation.

The hand that landed in the middle of his back nearly shoved him forward into the toilet. Leonard caught himself on the stall wall with a curse, but by the time he was turned around, there was a small phaser tucked beneath his chin.

His attacker pushed back the robe's hood, revealing a Bajoran female or someone with very similar genetics.

Leonard opened his mouth to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing.

She warned him first, "No talking."

They locked eyes.

"You will make no noise at all, Mr. McCoy," she added in a low whisper, "or it will be the last thing you do. Am I clear?"

He nodded.

"I'm pleased we understand each other. Now, you have something which belongs to me and I want it back."

_Oh boy_, Leonard thought, _Jim and Spock were going to love this._

* * *

The ship's computer made the last call for the upcoming show, and Jim twisted around in his seat with a frown, searching the remaining figures slipping into the darkened auditorium to find seats. None of them looked like Bones.

"Where do you think he is, Spock? He should have been back by now."

"I cannot know."

A couple with a child made their way down the aisle and pointed to the seat next to Jim, the one which should not have been empty.

Jim made a snap decision.

Spock rose as he did with a questioning "Jim?"

"It's okay. I'll find him. You stay. Bones and I can catch up with you later."

It only partly surprised Jim that Spock ignored the suggestion and followed him from their row to the aisle.

Jim nodded to the father carrying his youngling and said, "Be my guest."

"Thank you," came the reply as the available seats were hurriedly taken.

Jim had to blink twice and stand still for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the brightly lit, busy lobby outside the auditorium. He looked around, unable to determine the best direction in which to start his search, and gave in to the urge to rub at the back of his neck.

"Why," he said plaintively to Spock, "do I have this feeling that he's in trouble?"

"I should hope that is not the case. I will search the concession area while you inspect the nearest personal facilities. There is also a bar, although I doubt we will find him in there." Spock was already moving away with designated purpose.

Jim opened his mouth but closed it just as the red alert at the back of his neck became serious enough to raise the tiny hairs there. He turned to find Roraqk standing behind him.

"Kirk."

That tone, that voice, that word—it was all Jim needed to know that something very wrong had happened. He felt Spock's return before he saw the Vulcan from the corner of his eye. Together, they faced the Captain of the _Maiden_.

Jim looked Roraqk over and felt himself fall into a kind of deadly calm that came over him when he was in command. "Captain," he greeted the other officer. "What is it?"

"I think you should come with me."

"Can it wait? It seems that we've misplaced our friend."

Roraqk made a rumbling noise, a judgment of some kind that sounded very foreboding.

Jim narrowed his eyes.

Roraqk's second-in-command appeared behind his captain and said somewhat stiltedly and apologetically, "Captain Kirk, you should—that is, I'm sorry I think—I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding," grunted Roraqk. Without further explanation, he moved away from the entrance to the auditorium, his formidable size and bullish-like behavior forcing the crowd of passengers to open up a path for him.

Jim was on the verge of telling Spock to stay behind and find Leonard when Essler spoke first, his tone more subdued than ever.

"Sir," he said, "I'll have to request that both of you follow me."

"Why?" Jim asked.

As the young man stared at Kirk, his gaze took on a betrayed look. "I'm afraid we might have discovered what your Dr. McCoy is up to."

Jim had never heard more frightening words.

Spock stepped forward and said, "Lead the way, Lieutenant-Commander."

* * *

Jim stared at the feeds with a sort of buzzing in his ears. To his right, Essler was watching him anxiously, waiting for a reaction.

"Play it again," he ordered.

Roraqk issued the command to the ship's computer.

Jim leaned forward, hyperaware of Spock at his back, and watched for a second time the order of events which ultimately led to Leonard's absence for the show. He noted his partner's body language at the bar, curious yet at the same time impatient to be elsewhere. Then he watched Leonard enter the restrooms with someone and leave with that same person. The footage froze on the pair just before they walked out of range of the ship's video record.

With a feeling of dread, he asked, "Do we have a different angle of that shot?"

Roraqk regarded him closely. "Why?"

Anger flared in Jim, and one of his hands balled into a fist.

Spock said, "Another vantage point should prove what we already suspect, Captain—that Dr. McCoy did not leave the lobby of his own volition."

"I don't suspect anything of the kind," replied Roraqk. "I think he's been caught, and you're trying to cover for him."

Jim leapt out of his chair. Spock's hand came down on his arm in a gentle but unyielding grip.

"Sir," the Vulcan said, his tone growing cooler as Jim stilled, "I do not follow your logic. Based on what evidence are you accusing us of a crime when you have already acquitted us of guilt in the murder?"

Roraqk eyed them.

Essler swallowed before he spoke up. "The Captain issued an order to keep you under surveillance. I thought that was just to... never mind. Sir," he said, turning to his superior, "I cannot claim to know what is going on here, but I can tell you that Captain Kirk is not the type of man to be involved in... whatever this is." He glanced at Spock, adding with less certainty, "Mr. Spock, too."

Jim straightened his spine. "Listen to me, Roraqk. I don't care what you think right now. One of my own is likely a hostage and in danger. We'll have to discuss your suspicions some other time. If you want to be of any help to us," he said flatly, "you will provide me with their heading so that I can intercept them."

"In danger? You're making an assumption you shouldn't, Kirk. Let me tell you what I see: the accomplice was in the auditorium, then left with McCoy when he excused himself. They crossed the lobby together, split up to throw off suspicion and later reconvened for their pre-arranged meeting. If we intercept them now, we won't find out what they're up to and why a man died."

Jim felt his blood pressure rise to a dangerous level.

"Are we being detained?" Spock asked bluntly.

Roraqk hesitated before admitting, "No."

The fool knew he didn't have a leg to stand on, thought Jim. "Then we're leaving," he announced aloud and strode for the door, hardly able to think of anything but the worst scenarios. He did pause at the door, however, to turn back and say directly to Essler, "Comm me when you find him."

The young man's eyes went wide. "On your personal comm, sir?"

Jim smiled without mirth. "None other, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Yes, sir—I mean, of course, Jim!"

"C'mon, Spock," Jim said to the silent Vulcan beside him. "Bones needs us."

* * *

Roraqk growled at his second-in-command once Kirk was gone: "You won't tell that arrogant bastard anything. This is not his ship. That's an order!"

At the commanding tone, Essler immediately came to attention. "Understood, sir."

Roraqk released a great, big snort and turned back to the ship's computer. A wide-eyed crewmember sitting at the console there scrambled to look busy.

Essler uncrossed the fingers behind his back and, careful not to rustle his clothes, took out his comm unit. He scrolled through his contact list, to a private number there which he hadn't dared use since he found it printed on the passenger paperwork. He vowed he would not fail Jim Kirk.

* * *

"Can I say something now?"

"I said keep quiet."

Leonard pursed his mouth. "I guess you're the one responsible for the dead body in my bathroom."

The business end of the phaser dug sharply into his side. Leonard huffed softly and leaned back against the inner wall of the maintenance lift they had snuck into.

Her glare said he should be intimidated.

He decided there was no point in pretending. "Ma'am, I ought to tell you that this ain't my first rodeo. Now you can point that at me all you like—you can even knock me around with it—" Here he rubbed at a particularly sore spot on the side of his head. "—but the fact is you can't kill me until you get what you want." He scowled at the phaser. "And why in blazes couldn't you just ask first?!"

"Mr. McCoy, you talk too much."

"It's Doctor McCoy."

Her mouth pressed thin. "Doctor."

Leonard drummed his fingers on the wall and glanced up at the turbolift display. "Why don't you tell me specifically what you're looking for? Maybe I don't have it."

His kidnapper said nothing.

Leonard pointed out, "If you're going to kill me anyway, can it hurt to answer my questions?"

"Do you wish for me to kill you?"

"Not really, but it seems like the right assumption."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Abruptly she said, "You aren't afraid."

He drawled, "I've learned to hide it better. Being in Starfleet teaches you that."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she stood up straighter. The phaser came up a notch higher too. "Starfleet?"

Leonard smiled sardonically. "Yes, Starfleet. You didn't do your homework before you kidnapped me, did you?"

"What is _Starfleet_ doing on a tourist ship?" the woman hissed.

He harrumphed and crossed his arms. "What else? Touring."

She poked the phaser unforgivingly into his gut. "If you are truly with Starfleet, Doctor, then you have given me more than enough reason not to let you live."

He held her eyes for a long moment before he asked, "Is it worth it, whatever you're after? Is it worth the blood on your hands?"

"Oh yes," she replied too softly. "It is worth your life and mine."

Leonard's stomach made a sickening turn. He looked away, needing those handful of seconds to keep his fear from showing. "All right," he said at length, turning back to her, "I'll give you what you want... but I can't just tell you where it is. I'll have to show you."

"You have chosen correctly, Dr. McCoy," she congratulated him, drawing back to an arm's length. "But let me offer you this advice before we go farther: I never bluff."

He had known from the first look into her cold eyes that she didn't. She had been, he had guessed, trained that way. He was recognized a militant when he saw one.

What he didn't like was the gleam in her eyes just a moment ago. A militant and a zealot—the two rarely mixed well with good results. He had no doubt now that whatever her cause, she was willing to die for it.

Well, little did this woman know that he also had a cause. He had two, in fact, worth everything to him, and he would be damned if anything harmed _them._

* * *

Jim prowled in front of the door of the turbolift which had yet to arrive. "Can't you sense him?"

"At this moment it is difficult to discern anything beyond your distress. You must contain it."

Jim stopped moving and tried to calm his thoughts. It didn't last long. "Damn it!" he cried, smacking a fist into the palm of his other hand. "Where do we even start? What if he's already been taken off ship? If this were the Enterprise—"

"A futile wish, Captain. I suggest we focus on what we know."

Jim closed his eyes. "A body."

"Yes—found in our quarters, which were ransacked either during the struggle with the killer or in an attempt to find something in the room."

Jim opened his eyes. "If the object wasn't found, then someone could still be looking for it."

Spock's eyes glinted in the overhead light. "Precisely. Our most logical course of action is to start where the mystery begins."

Jim was silent for a moment, then said, "If I were Bones, and I knew the captor wanted something, what would I do?"

"First, tell the truth."

"And if the truth didn't work, then what?"

Spock replied, "I would say that logically one should let them search our belongings in order to prove there is no lie. More importantly, this could lead to their capture. However, Leonard's approach will be quite different. He will not take them to our room."

"Because that would lead them to us."

"And perhaps anyone else who has the misfortune to be in the way. There is only one area that we can be certain will not be occupied on this ship."

"As you said," Jim remarked, "'where the mystery begins'."

The lift dinged to alert them to its arrival but neither of them entered it immediately.

"Spock," said Jim, "on the off chance that we're wrong, I want you to go to the suite."

Spock responded politely with "I cannot do that."

"I'm not asking as your captain."

"I am not declining as your subordinate."

Jim managed a partial smile and stepped into the lift, murmuring, "It was worth a try." He waited until Spock was inside and the turbolift was en route before he said, "If we get out of this intact, Spock, remind me to put a lease on Bones."

"I have considered the solution before and concluded that, though as amusing as it would be, a lease would hardly curb his penchant for trouble—or yours."

Jim cut his eyes to the Vulcan next to him. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Spock only blinked.

Jim fixed his eyes forward again and silently counted the seconds until their destination.

* * *

*** - TMC stands for Taurus Molecular Cloud.**

**In other news: I am taking prompts for my space_wrapped story, and in addition letting readers vote for the prompt they want me to write this year. Deadlines and details concerning submissions are at my tumblr! (Link on profile page.)**


	5. Part Five

**Please make certain you have read last week's chapter! Plus important news: you can vote through Oct. 5th on the prompt you want to become my 2014 space_wrapped story! Just visit my journal. The poll is open to everyone!**

* * *

**Part Five**

_Each of them anticipated something wrong. In hindsight, they saw clearly where the mistakes were made, saw when they should have acted differently, guessed otherwise, held back. Guilt was the result. But the price that was paid? That was far worse than a guilty conscience._

_Far, far worse._

* * *

Leonard watched the woman with disinterest. He wasn't certain why he felt removed from what was happening, but it wasn't a steely kind of calm that kept fear at bay. It wasn't arrogance or self-confidence. In a way, that was quite worrying. That he was in a dire situation, the possibility that he could be murdered, demanded more than apathy.

He dropped his head to one side to stretch his neck. Then he stretched the other side of his neck. After another minute of watching things being tossed aside or up-turned, he inquired, "Would you like my help?"

His captor bared her teeth. "I've told you to shut up! Must I continue to repeat myself?"

He almost countered with _this is the most boring kidnapping I've been a part of in all my years_ but decided if someone later on learned that he had said that, he would never live it down (granted, of course, he were still alive at that point).

That set him to thinking some more. "Say, can I ask you a question?"

Instead of whirling around and doing violence to his person, the woman huffed her exasperation and gave him a bland look which was tacit permission to continue.

"Was it murder or self-defense?" he wanted to know.

"Whose?"

"The guy found in that bathroom right over there. He suffered trauma, that much any medically trained eye—like mine," he added, "could see. I was just curious about the kind of explanation you would give for how he died."

At first he thought she wasn't going to give an answer because she stayed quiet for so long. Then to his surprise the kidnapper shook her head and said, "My only explanation is this, Doctor: I needed that man alive."

They stared at each other, weighing the things that went unsaid.

"I guess," Leonard decided at last, "that I could believe that."

"I care little if you believe me or not. Although... why? Do you think as a woman I am too weak to take a life?"

"On the contrary, ma'am, I think you'd see no point in lying about it if you did."

"Ah. That is the only intelligent thing you have said since we met."

Leonard snorted.

The woman stood up. She did not turn the phaser on him but he had the feeling she was considering it.

"Now I have a question for you."

"Shoot," he said, then winced. It was a bad thing to be literal sometimes.

A hint of something touched the corner of her mouth, there and gone before he could discern what it was.

She watched him closely as she asked, "Did _you_ kill him?"

Leonard would have rocked back on his heels if he had been standing. He must have expressed how taken aback he was by her question because she murmured softly, "I see" and turned away, not waiting for a response.

"I didn't kill anyone," Leonard said to her back, "but now I'm beginning to wonder just who did."

"That I would also give much to know."

* * *

Jim's fingers twitched in the absence of a phaser. Next to him, Spock stood entirely motionless, so motionless in fact that it belied his tension. They had little choice, though. The force field originally put in place by the ship's security was down, which could only mean one thing.

He motioned silently for Spock to let him through first, and stepped past the opening into the eerie quiet of the inner cabin. At first glance he saw that someone had definitely been ahead of them; the room looked to be in worse disrepair than his last look at it. A bedside light fixture was on nearest the closet—but he saw no figures, no bodies.

Jim swallowed.

Spock shifted next to him and indicated the door to the bathroom; it had a glow under it. Jim caught Spock's arm to delay his movement in that direction. He was, for a moment, consumed by a terrible vision: Leonard, dead, shoved into the small space between the sink and toilet.

They had to look but he wouldn't let Spock do it first.

Spock's mouth opened for a second as if to shape Jim's name, the skin around Spock's dark eyes taut.

With a sense of déjà-vu, Jim pushed Spock towards the side of the door where the Vulcan wouldn't be readily seen just as he had once done to McCoy. He stepped close enough for the sensors to pick up his presence, and when the door slid open—

—someone turned, startled, and blinked at him.

Jim leapt forward with "Bones!"

Leonard's face lit up.

In the second before Jim reunited with his missing partner, he saw the other occupant of the bathroom.

And the phaser.

His first thought was to shield Bones. The second one was more of an animal instinct, the kind that demanded, _Take down the intruder!_

Jim turned his forward momentum into a lunge.

"Jim," he heard the cry, "no!"

Arms came around him, pinned him.

Jim froze, thinking, quite astonished, that Leonard had never physically tried to restrain him from a fight before.

As Leonard drew them both away, closer to the sink counter, Jim looked from Leonard's exposed back to the phaser in a hand which never wavered. He was about to break Leonard's hold when from the corner of his eye he saw Spock face their adversary.

"I suggest that you lower your weapon," the Vulcan said.

"That would be quite a foolish thing for me to do," came the response.

"You'd better do as he says. You won't get away with the murder of three Starfleet officers," Jim snapped. Then he did try to shake Leonard, saying with aggravation, "_Bones_."

"_Jim_," Leonard hissed back. "Spock, get over here. Nobody's murdering anybody!"

Spock spoke quite calmly from where he had not budged an inch, "Leonard, I assume this is your kidnapper."

"Yes," answered Leonard automatically, and then when Jim successfully freed one of his arms, "no! I mean—blast it, stop confusing me!"

Jim pivoted Leonard to where he needed to be, which was out of the line of fire, and then managed to shake off the rest of the man. He felt almost grimly amused as he turned back to the woman with the phaser. A moment later, fingers groped futilely at the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

"Bones," he said, annoyed, "stop that."

Leonard's hand fell away, and he poked his head around Jim's shoulder. "One day," the man threatened him, "I'll get it right."

"Unlikely," pointed out Spock.

"Just because you won't teach it to me—!"

"Enough, Bones," Jim interrupted, watching the woman warily. "What is that you want?"

Leonard slid into position beside Jim. "She doesn't want any trouble."

"I wasn't asking you, McCoy," replied Jim in a captain's tone.

"Dr. McCoy is correct," the woman said. "I have no inclination to shoot you, Officer, unless you continue to antagonize me."

"Not Officer," Jim said too softly, "Captain."

"Captain," she repeated flatly, making Jim wonder if she had already known that much about him. "I am armed and you are not. Do not behave as a fool would. I want you and the Vulcan to return to the cabin. Your doctor will remain with me."

Jim had no intention of retreating, much less leaving Leonard behind. "No."

"Jim, do as she says."

"No."

"For god's sake, Jim, would you listen to me for once? I just got her to agree to work _with_ us! What did you think we were doing in here, hiding? We're looking for clues!"

"Clues?"

Spock moved his gaze from Leonard to the woman and back again. "Have you found any?" he inquired politely.

"No," Leonard grumped. "Somebody barged in first!"

Jim said, "I don't believe this. You're telling me this person forced you through the ship with a phaser in your back, and you're upset at _me_ for trying to _save you_."

"Now wait a minute, I didn't say—"

"I do not think this is the appropriate time to—"

"I didn't overreact! I won't apologize!"

As the argument gained momentum, the fourth occupant of the bathroom lowered her weapon and made an annoyed indication with her hand for Spock to move aside. The conversation stuttered then, as the men watched her abandon them to their lovers' spat.

Leonard pursed his mouth.

Jim remarked, "I suppose that's one way to get rid of an enemy."

"Fascinating."

Standing between them, Leonard released a loud sigh and closed his eyes. "Thanks," he said. "This could have gone very differently."

Jim wrapped an arm around the man's back. "We're glad you're all right, Bones. You had us worried."

Leonard opened his eyes and gave them a thin smile. "I think we have other worries now."

Jim and Spock waited for the rest.

Leonard's gaze sought the closed bathroom door. "She said she didn't kill him and I believe her."

Jim pressed his mouth into a line. "Then why is he dead?"

"That's the part you aren't going to like. She said there shouldn't be anyone else onboard who is aware of their mission."

"_Their mission?_" Jim and Spock questioned together.

Leonard made a helpless gesture. "Which means if some third party has what she's looking for, we're all in serious danger."

"Bones," Jim said impatiently, "just tell us."

Leonard drew in a breath and slowly released it. "They took one of the Tears of the Prophets," he said. "If you've seen the news recently, I bet you can guess which one."

Jim stared.

Spock said, "I see," which meant he understood the implications far too well.

"Then it's," said Jim with a significant pause, "on _this_ ship? My god!"

"When brought aboard, the Orb must have been sufficiently contained," Spock began.

Leonard stared down at his hands, finishing, "Or we could be contaminated and don't even know it. Jim," he said, and his voice cracked, "this whole ship could be _dying_."

A grave silence enveloped the three men. After a time, one of them stirred as if to speak but in that moment they all heard a shout from the next room. It was clearly "CAPTAIN!"

The shout turned into a howl of pain.

Jim barreled out of the bathroom, Spock and Leonard not far behind. What he found momentarily brought him up short.

On the floor, Essler uncurled from a fetal position and rolled onto his back, clutching his head. When he spied Jim, he pointed a shaky finger towards the cabin door that was ajar and said, "T-That way..."

"Bones!" Jim barked, not needing to give an explicit order, and took off into the corridor. Spock went after him.

Leonard dropped to his knees beside the groaning man. Prying at Essler's fingers, he said, "Let me look. I'm a doctor."

Essler gave a whimper. "She got away. She hit me and got away!"

"What did you think you were doing? You shouldn't have come here!" Leonard accused him.

"I wanted to help."

"Then you ought to know better than to come alone!"

Essler looked like he wanted to say something to that but wisely did not, firming his mouth and pushing at McCoy's hand.

"Oh no you don't," Leonard warned the young man when he tried to get to his feet. "Stay still or I'll sit on you!"

"Captain Kirk needs my help. He could be in trouble!"

"I doubt that."

"But she has a phaser!"

"And he has a Vulcan."

Essler looked at him askance.

"Clearly," Leonard murmured with a tinge of amusement to his voice, "you know little about Vulcans."

"...Are they good fighters?"

"They pretend not to be, but take my advice: don't upset one."

"Oh." Essler winced and swore when Leonard pressed gently against a lump on his skull. "Is it broken?"

Leonard sat back on his heels. "If you didn't have such a hard head, you could have had a fracture."

His eyes widened. "But I don't, right?"

"Somehow I think not," the doctor replied dryly. "Here, sit up—slowly now!" Leonard helped him into a sitting position. "Okay, good. Give me your phaser."

Essler's eyes got wider. "What?"

Leonard just looked at him.

"Sir, I mean, Dr. McCoy! I can't do that!" And then the poor fellow seemed to realize he didn't have his phaser anyway and stared down in betrayal at his empty hands.

Leonard huffed and picked up the errant weapon beside Essler's hip. "Thanks," he said, coming to his feet. "Call for a medical evac. One officer down."

"But I'm—"

"_Down_," Leonard repeated, his amusement having dispersed. "And don't bother tracking us, since that's what you were obviously doing to begin with."

"I..." Essler opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words.

Leonard shook his head. "Don't. There's far more at stake here than you realize. I'm telling you to leave us be for your own good, at least until—" But he didn't finish his sentence, just fell silent and headed for the exit.

"Wait!" came the call, causing Leonard to stop at the open door and turn back.

Essler was much paler than he had been a moment earlier. "Are you...?" he started to ask Leonard before succumbing to his own hesitation. "Are you really the bad guys?"

"No," Leonard said, "but that's the problem. We don't know who is." The doctor's mouth thinned briefly. He added in his best no-nonsense tone, "Lieutenant-Commander, this is an order from the Chief Medical Officer of the _Enterprise_, so listen up."

Essler certainly looked like he was listening.

"This ship needs to be scanned for any atypical biological agents. _Without_ delay, a'right?"

"Sir, we have the standard—"

"This virus won't be standard, but it will be fatal," Leonard cut in, sounding very calm even as he made a dire prognosis for their collective future.

"V-Virus? ...Fatal?"

The young man had paled further.

Leonard made no reply to that, as he must have felt there was none to be made, and left the _Maiden_'s second-in-command behind to think on the next plan of action. It would have to involve making a call to his superior; and whatever Essler reported, they both knew, would not be anything that Captain Roraqk wanted to hear.

But as Leonard had insinuated, the fate of everyone aboard depended on it.

* * *

Jim turned a corner and slowed to where the corridor of the passenger deck abruptly forked. He looked both ways but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Spock came to a standstill beside him. They both remained poised to take off in another sprint.

"Which way?"

Spock said, "I do not know."

Jim's fingers curled at his sides. "Damn! We need to find her."

"I am aware of this, Jim."

Jim tamped down on a rising temper. "I'm not arguing with you, Spock. Go left. I'll take the right."

"I would not recommend that we split up."

"At the risk of losing her completely? I won't take that risk, Spock. This woman, whoever she is—I want her found."

"Because of the Orb," Spock supplied softly. "She can confirm or deny which one is aboard the ship."

"And just who was crazy enough to take a deadly artifact out of quarantine," Jim said in his grimmest tone.

"Many acts of insanity, many atrocities and unnecessary violence, have been undertaken in the name of religious beliefs. This would not be the first time for any race that we know of, Jim."

"But shouldn't it be our last, if we're ever to learn from our mistakes?" Jim wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose but didn't and simply shook his head instead. "Just... go, Spock."

With a slight incline of his head, Spock took the left corridor.

Jim sighed deeply through his nose and went right.

* * *

A man approached but not in time to see the rest of a limb being shoved into the depths of a maintenance shaft. The hatch was closed, sealed, and the figure in the worker's suit crouched in front of it stood up.

Kirk passed by in an obvious hurry.

A finger rose and fell against the suit material at close to hip-height.

_Tap. Tap tap._

Some things had gone according to plan. Others had not.

This was one of those things that had not. Should Kirk die now, or would it be better to...?

Yes.

There was that other option.

The worker-but-not fished a recently acquired phaser out of a toolbox where it had been hidden and followed the oblivious quarry down the corridor.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

Separating was largely the worst mistake they made that day, the day that Jim went missing.

When Leonard caught up to Spock on a lower deck, they shared a silent apprehension, a feeling which had overcome them both quite suddenly and without evident cause. Expanding the search for the woman to include their partner transformed apprehension into fear. By the time the active hours of the cruiser drew to an end, Spock and Leonard had forced their way onto the _Maiden_'s bridge and demanded a ship-wide scan. The captain refused, whereupon Spock took a position at the controls regardless and executed the program himself while Leonard guarded his back with Essler's phaser.

The computer beeped, blipped, and declared, _No bio-signature of James T. Kirk detected onboard._

The bridge grew ominously quiet, then, as if faced with an ill wind. Even Roraqk's belligerent expression wavered.

"No bio-signature?" Leonard had repeated, looking to Spock, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That's not possible."

Spock never replied, for they both knew it was entirely possible if Jim happened to be dead.

* * *

"We would know—Spock, we would know!"

Leonard paced their suite, where Roraqk had escorted them with a group of armed guards and the explicit instructions to stay put.

The longer Leonard tried to 'stay put', the worse his hands shook. He kept hearing a computerized voice inform them that Jim was gone.

Turning, he faced the other occupant of the bedroom, who sat at the small computer console (the kind installed for personal use, much like on the Enterprise) typing away.

"Spock!" he barked, letting his irritation flare, which did little to disguise his anguish. "Are you even listening?"

"I am."

Leonard stalked over to the Vulcan and leaned down to grab a hold of his shoulders. "Then for Christ's sake act like it!"

One of Spock's hands moved, wrapping long fingers around Leonard's wrist. He kept it there without pulling Leonard away.

The contact grounded Leonard, and he loosened his grip. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Leonard, you must know that I am not unaffected."

His shoulders sagged. "I know."

Fingers touched his cheek, stroked down along the skin.

Leonard took the hand and kissed the back of it.

Spock made a soft noise, almost like a human sigh, and returned to the bright screen of the console. "In a moment, we should have the security records from the computer's databanks. Ironically, Roraqk's invasion of our privacy will prove to be one of our most valuable resources."

Leonard looked at the screen. "So this whole time you were hacking into the system? Well, at least one of us has his head on straight."

Spock gave him a peculiar look. "If my head was at any other angle, I would not be alive—as you well know."

Leonard made a whimpering kind of laugh. "Please, Spock, not now."

"...I do not understand."

Leonard pulled up a chair and propped his elbows on the desktop. "Let's just find Jim."

Spock looked back at the computer screen and blinked. "Later you will explain it to me."

"Do you really need to know the history behind _every_ single strange thing I say?"

"Affirmative."

"Away with you," Leonard remarked, pleased.

Spock gave him another peculiar look.

The human rolled his eyes. "Not literally, you green-blooded computer! Now, show me those records."

* * *

The door slid shut, and a light came on in an adjacent room. The newcomer moved towards it with purpose, his stride speaking of anger and a touch of fear. When he came within sight of the other occupant of the quarters, he bellowed, "_What did you do?_"

A female humanoid smiled at him. "Darling," she said, "what's the matter?"

"Kirk's missing, and I told you not to cause trouble!"

She tapped her fingers against her thigh. "Are those two things related?"

Roraqk came at her, teeth bared, but stopped short of touching her. "Don't think me a fool, chit. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Whatever you did to Kirk, undo it."

"And here I thought you wanted to smash the Captain's skull between your claws. Why the change of heart?"

Roraqk narrowed his eyes. "Was I supposed to stay jealous?"

Her eyes, when they met his, had turned cold. "I think I'm insulted."

Roraqk's massive jaw worked for a moment before he turned partly away. "If his Fleet hears about this, taking away the _Maiden_ will be the kindest thing they do to me."

"I didn't touch Kirk."

He hissed back, "_Liar._"

She slapped him and said angrily, "The only mistake I made was getting involved with bastard captains like the two of you! Get out of my room, Roraqk."

"You forget your place, chit." Roraqk backed up as he said this. "When we dock, I want you off my ship."

"It will be my pleasure, Captain," she replied sarcastically.

He left, and the companion who remained behind stared absently ahead of her for a long time. Then, shaking off her thoughts, she returned to what had preoccupied her before her lover's arrival. Kneeling to the floor in the suite bathroom, she leaned over enough to run her fingers through loose strands of hair. Humans had the softest hair; she had always admired the texture of it.

"Jim," she whispered, "he doesn't understand what a rare opportunity this is. It's revenge, yes, but also justice. When I take your life, my family can finally be at peace."

She tapped a finger against the slack muscle of his cheek, pulled back and rose to her feet.

She needed to prepare for departure, anxious to leave the ship for reasons Roraqk had barely begun to guess. But these final moments aboard were also important, like closing a chapter of her life, and no one could stop her now.

She simply had to make certain that two passengers in particular were sufficiently distracted until then.

* * *

"They look like night-vision goggles."

"They are not."

"That's what they look like."

"Leonard, could you please cease your arbitrary discourse and check our position? Otherwise I fear you will draw unwanted attention precisely to this location."

"Position's good, and who're you callin' a chatterbox? You're the most long-winded—"

"Leonard." One could hear enough stress on the word to indicate exasperation.

"_Fine._"

There was a _hmph_, then silence which ended a full minute later.

"Did you find something?"

"Possibly."

"Well, what does it look like?"

"The shape is not clearly defined, most likely due to the disruption of the visual sensors from the surrounding energy field of the—"

"Who's the chatterbox now?"

There came a significant pause, then, "Perhaps it is a cube."

"A cube-like shape could be a lot of things, Spock, but it sure as heck ain't Jim! Keep looking. You said he had to be around here somewhere."

"I said no such thing. The computer tracked him no farther than this corridor. That does not take into account any number of presences which could have removed him from these premises before our arrival."

"And I thought I had a penchant for getting kidnapped. Remind me to make a point of that when he gets on me about being nabbed in the bathroom."

"I assume that was an awkward encounter."

"At least my pants weren't down."

The voices continued on, growing distant as the party moved on.

* * *

Not good, Essler thought, nearly to the point of wringing his hands.

Not good at all. Neither Dr. McCoy nor Commander Spock had remained in their quarters as ordered. Of course, _he_ hadn't stayed in the med bay like his captain told him to either.

How could he? Honestly... how could he when _Jim_ was missing?

But Captain Kirk had come out of scrapes worse than this, the young man reminded himself. Think of that time with the Gorn, or the Klingons and the tribbles, or a ridiculously childish omnipotent being called Trelane...

Essler knew he ought to stop pilfering the mission reports from Starfleet. He knew that, honest to god. The breach of security might actually be considered treason in the Federation or at the very least the act of a spy, no matter how innocent the motive.

But Essler had to keep track these things. He had to because he so admired James T. Kirk. They could have been Academy comrades if things had gone differently in his life. He could have been one of Kirk's most trusted aboard the Enterprise and, maybe even, Jim's _friend_.

Imagine that, a friend to his longtime hero.

He had lost so much time, he realized, believing that he could have made an exemplary career out in the hind-end of space, working to become a name as celebrated as Kirk's. A name that Kirk would one day say with equal respect.

What good were hopes and dreams if Jim died?

Oh, he should have never, _ever_ agreed to this mission. If he had known it would place the best starship captain in the galaxy in mortal danger, he wouldn't have. Fame didn't matter now. Neither did glory. He had failed his mission anyway when the Orb turned up missing and a man dead. His Bajoran benefactors could wait.

He had a captain to rescue!

* * *

Leonard leaned back against the turbolift wall and closed his eyes. He tried not to sound defeated but failed as he said, "We're no better off now than when we started."

"We have searched only one-third of the ship. There is more yet to be done."

"And when we get to the passenger decks—what then, Spock? Do we knock on doors and ask if we can look through family cabins in case our captain is tied up in their bathroom?" He knocked his head back against the wall in frustration. "I'll agree that his bio-signature was disabled, and I'm darned glad we found equipment that can see through walls but there's just two of us. In the time could take us to search this blasted ship from top to bottom, Jim could very well be dead."

"I am open to suggestions."

Leonard sighed and opened his eyes, fixing them on the floor of the lift. "We should ask Roraqk to supply the manpower we need."

"He would not agree to that."

Leonard thumped a fist on the paneling. "He should!" he shot back angrily. "If Jim dies because that oversized lunkhead can't see beyond the length of his snout, I'll see to it that he never sets foot on a starship again! Jim would _never_ risk a life because of a personal grievance. And what's the Trade Commission doin' anyway, handing out captaincies to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who wants a ship!"

"Leonard, anger will not resolve our situation."

"Punching somebody might."

"Of course, the typical human response."

Leonard shook his finger under Spock's nose. "Don't tell me you aren't mad. I know you are!"

"I cannot deny it."

"Then help me, Spock. Help me do whatever it takes to get Jim back, even if it means breaking the rules."

"Have I not already proven that I will?" the Vulcan asked him quietly.

Leonard laid a hand on Spock's arm as Jim would have. "Yes," he agreed with an equally quiet tone. "Many times over. I don't mean to question your loyalty. I just need the reminder that I'm not alone. That's my shortcoming, Spock, not yours."

"We are distraught," Spock stated, "and we have not slept or taken nourishment in many hours. The unkind things we say to each other now are not representative of who we are because we are not ourselves."

"I'm sorry too," Leonard said. "I'm glad you're here with me."

"As I am grateful for you."

Leonard let his hand slip away. "So what do we do now?"

"Continue on. We can do nothing less."

"I have some stimulants in my medkit. I can go a while longer before I need one, but it would be better to have it on hand just in case." He didn't add that there could be other reasons they would need the kit when they found Jim.

Spock nodded his agreement, the look in his dark eyes saying clearly that he understood the unspoken concern.

* * *

There was never a moment's peace on this ship. The call from the bridge had come to his personal quarters, interrupting what was meant to be a long brooding session over his misfortune. The officer on duty who had placed the call had sounded slightly frantic but at Roraqk's insistence spared no time for details. One never knew who might be plugged into their communication channels. Some sectors of space had few laws and fewer law abiders.

As it stood, Roraqk hardly considered himself among that latter class. Otherwise he wouldn't be working the same boring routes year after year on a ship full of ignoramus mouth-breathers with deep pockets and not a whole of lot of common sense. No, if there weren't the privileges of his position as written into his contract with the entertainment corporation that paid him... He would have long ago set his sights on a different venture.

He didn't rush to the bridge immediately. His staff knew well enough that unless the ship was on fire or under attack, any and all emergency calls took priority to his personal schedule.

But unfortunately he didn't have much of personal schedule at the moment—or would likely have one for a few months once he sent his guest packing. That chit! He gnashed his teeth over her audacity for a while longer before he headed to the bridge.

"What is it?" he bit out at the nearest lieutenant to hand as he crossed the threshold.

She turned pale and didn't answer him.

That would have inflamed his already hot temper if the licensed medical officer he had aboard (and resident mortician) hadn't stepped into his path and dragged away his attention.

"Got a call from down below," the human said. "One of the engineers found a dead body in a maintenance tube."

Roraqk had a moment to think with triumph, _Good riddance_, and then another moment for his common sense to kick in. "Kirk?" he questioned gruffly.

"A female," replied the officer.

Well, wasn't that just wonderful news? Kirk was still missing-in-action and now the bodies were starting to pile up.

Maybe Kirk was the murderer.

Roraqk gave a great snort, which startled most of his bridge crew. He curled his claws inward and loosed a growl that sent them all back to inspecting their consoles.

"Orders?" the human in front of him wanted to know.

Roraqk considered his options, and at last decided, "Put it in cryo with the other one."

"Aye, sir."

Roraqk gave him a nod of dismissal but just as the man had reached the bridge's only set of doors, Roraqk called back to him, "What about that test? Do I need to worry about a quarantine?"

"No, Captain," came the reply. "The ship's clean."

Then what had Essler been babbling about down in the med bay, deadly viruses and vaccines?

Roraqk turned to ask and realized, only then, that the annoying young human was not on the bridge. "Where," he snarled at those present, "is my second-in-command?"

Nobody had an answer for him.

* * *

They rode the lift to the deck catering to the wealthier passengers and were en route to their suite when it became evident someone was following them. Leonard, who had been tense to begin with, felt his shoulders tighten further with each step. He wanted to confront their stalker (Who was it? Did the person know where Jim was?) but at the same time he didn't want to scare off what might be a new lead in Jim's disappearance. He actually rather wished that somebody would try to take them too. Maybe only then they could get to Jim.

Leonard didn't have to look at Spock to know that the Vulcan was experiencing similar thoughts. He stepped in closer to his companion and slid his hand into Spock's. To the observer, it might look like a gesture of courting. For them, it was a method of communication.

The bond between them, normally quiet and unobtrusive, something Jim had once likened to the soft, everyday hum of the starship on which they lived, flared to life at the forefront of Leonard's mind.

He thought, _I might be a little rusty at this._

_You are perfectly understandable._

_Oh ho! So no rampant human emotionalism is attacking your logical sensibilities right now?_

_Only your amusement, Leonard._

_That's because you are a laugh and a half, my pointy-eared hobgoblin._

Confusion and curiosity accompanied in Spock's reply. _How does one have half of a laugh?_

_Never mind. What do we do about our shadow?_

_I would like to question him._

_We gotta capture him first. Do you want to trip, or should I?_

Alarm. _Leonard, no, I do not—_.

But by then Leonard had hooked his foot around Spock's ankle and pulled. They went down in a tangle of limbs, Spock without his usual grace having managed to twist just enough to prevent himself landing nose-first. Leonard, being tethered as he was, fell across him with an _oof_.

The spark which shot between their minds was most certainly Vulcan annoyance. Leonard let an apology chase after it, then thought quickly as Spock started to sit up, _You've hurt your ankle. Stay down!_

Spock craned his head around to stare at him like he had lost his mind.

Leonard ducked his head and released the hand he was holding. "Oh no," he said faintly, "did you hurt yourself?"

Spock's stare grew more intense.

Leonard patted Spock's ankle. "I think you sprained your ankle, Spock."

"How... unfortunate," the Vulcan said with flat dismay.

Leonard cleared his throat in lieu of laughing out loud. "I'll, um, go on ahead and get my medkit." To the couple who had tentatively come forward to offer their assistance, he said, "Watch him a moment, would you? Our room's just down the hall," then assured them, "I'm a doctor." He scooted to his feet and took off in a hurry, ignoring Spock's helpless bleat of "Leonard?"

Leonard turned the corner and did exactly as he said. He went into their suite, leaving the door open in his haste, and didn't command the lights on. Once inside, he did gather the medkit quickly from the bathroom but then lingered there, silently counting. When he reached twenty, he slid out of the bathroom.

A mere second before the door closed, the light from the bathroom illuminated a figure in the dark who definitely wasn't Spock.

"Lieutenant-Commander," said Leonard, nonplussed, "just what in blazes do you think you're doing?"

"Dr. McCoy..."

Leonard took a step, commanding the room, "Lights seventy-percent."

"No!" cried the young man that Leonard had seen and, without warning, flung himself forward at Leonard.

Leonard had a moment to think a terrible mistake had been made by trusting such an innocent face. He tried to move aside but Essler caught his arm, and they went stumbling back, then down.

"I'm sorry," Essler said, and again, "I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy!" as his hands crept around Leonard's neck.

"Get off me!"

Leonard got a look past Essler and sucked in a quick breath.

Essler was lifted from him with an unforgiving strength. When Essler's sense sparked enough that he started to react, Spock took no mercy on him, applying a thumb and forefinger to the exposed neck. The man in Spock's grasp slumped, whatever noise he had been making subdued by unconsciousness.

"He's lost his mind," Leonard said softly, coming to his feet.

"Perhaps so," the Vulcan replied without inflection. "Or it may be that he was without possession of it from the beginning." Spock released the young man to the floor. "Are you unharmed?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

Spock's gaze held his for a brief moment before focusing on Essler. "I am also unharmed, but I am concerned that we can trust no one on this ship."

Leonard released a long breath. "I know," he agreed. "Believe me, Spock, I know."

It was the worst possible situation to be in with their partner's life at stake.


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

Jim woke to a pounding head, tingling limbs, and a dryness of mouth that one typically associated with the effects of being phaser-stunned. He didn't remember being accosted. In fact, he didn't recall much, except that one moment he had been aware of his surroundings and the next moment he found himself disoriented.

Somewhat slowly, he also realized he couldn't stand on his own: his arms and legs had been bound. Ignoring a surge of nausea, he sat up and took stock of where he was.

Great, he thought. He had been tied up in someone's bathroom. Why, oh why did it always come back to the bathroom on this ship? Jim wanted to have a word with the criminal mastermind about that.

He tested the material binding his wrists together and found that it had little give. Could he cut it with something sharp? Scooting his back against the nearest wall, he used the wall to help lever himself to his feet and balanced there.

The bathroom counter wasn't untouched as he had expected; it was covered with various items, all neatly arranged—some of which, he surmised, were more often preferred by the fairer sex. He caught sight of a short, thin robe made from colorful material hanging by the door. It could have confirmed his suspicion; however, he knew from experience that appearances could be deceiving. A bathroom frequented by a woman did not necessarily imply his enemy was female.

As quietly as possible, he made his way to the counter to search for something sharp to use. It wasn't an simple task with his ankles tied, but he'd been in such situations before and had long ago learned how to maneuver his body effectively enough.

He wanted these bindings gone.

And he wanted to know the face of his attacker.

_There had to be something!_ he thought, gritting his teeth as he pushed aside the paraphernalia. He studied a small, ornate hand mirror and wondered if he could break it without the sound being too loud.

Suddenly hearing a noise in the adjacent room, his head came up. He bent partway across the counter, rolled backwards just enough to grab at the handle of the mirror, then hopped back to his place by the wall. Jim dropped to his knees and laid down, making certain to shield the mirror from sight with his body.

Releasing a soft breath, he closed his eyes and waited. He was going to get one of his wishes, it seemed.

The bathroom door slid open, and someone crossed over to him, breathed near him. Jim smelled a perfume he recognized but could not quite place in his memory.

Then he felt a brush against his cheek.

"You're awake," came a soft hum of a voice. "There's no need to pretend."

Jim opened his eyes.

A woman smiled at him. "Hello, Jim," she said.

His sick feeling returned, accompanied by shock, as years melted away and swept him back in memory. Although Jim had matured in appearance as he had aged, she had not. He was looking at the same person from over a decade ago, everything about her unchanged since right before she left the Academy.

"Pieta," he said, giving her a name.

Pieta stroked his cheek again. "It's been a long time, Jim."

"I don't understand. How are you here? What happened to—"

His arms jerked on instinct and that pulled at whatever was binding his wrists. Jim sobered quickly, then, and studied Pieta's expression more closely.

She pulled back. "I suppose I should confess. Yes, it was me. I did this to you."

He rolled slightly to the side and sat up. "Pieta... why?"

"Why not?"

"Forget the word games! What's going on?" Jim demanded. "You..." He hated the thought but said it anyway: "...killed a man?"

She didn't deny it. "His death was an accident. Wrong place, wrong time. Honestly?" Her eyes glittered suddenly. "I was hoping to catch that doctor of yours. Or the Vulcan."

Something started to burn inside Jim but he didn't rise to the bait.

"What happened to you, Pieta? You were at the top of every class. Had you stayed on, any captain worth his salt would have jumped at the chance to mentor you... and this is what you've done with yourself instead? Become a murderer?"

Something changed, then, in Pieta. The mask she wore of his old friend vanished, and he saw a person he couldn't claim to know.

One of her fingers stabbed into his chest. "How dare you judge me, Jim Kirk—how dare you! Even now, you're no better than you used to be! You ruined everything for me, and still—_still!_—you refuse to take responsibility for it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar!" She lifted her hand, fingers curled as if to claw his face. She didn't hurt him, though, and instead darted her hand forward to grasp his chin.

Jim's stomach turned when she kissed him, but outwardly he gave no reaction. Even as she pulled back to look into his eyes, he kept everything he was feeling (disgust, horror, shame) locked down.

She was out of her mind. He knew that now. He just didn't know why.

Pieta was calmer as she studied him. "You don't want me," she said.

He didn't contradict her.

Pieta trailed her hand to the middle of his chest, let it linger there. "I loved you, Jim. I loved you so much and not once did you ever say you loved me."

"We were friends, Pieta."

"I wanted to be more than your friend."

"I was with someone. You knew that."

"Like you are now?" the woman retorted. "Do others know, _Captain_, that you're consorting with your subordinates, or do you hide it like a coward?"

"I don't have anything to hide, Pieta." His voice changed to something low and fierce. "And I don't give a damn what anybody thinks about my personal life."

"Such strong words. You were always good at playing the fearless leader, even when you were a junior cadet. I used to admire that about you, Jim, how brazen you could be. How confident. I thought I was helping you make history—and you did, didn't you?" She laughed, and it was a bitter sound. "But I earned nothing good in return for my loyalty. I _lost_ because of you."

There was something there that he was missing, some knowledge he didn't have. He asked her, "What did you lose?"

She spread her hands. "Can't you tell? I'm bartering my skills, my dignity, sometimes my body, just to survive."

"I'm sorry to hear it," Jim said with genuine regret, "but I don't understand why I am at fault for that."

Her face darkened like a storm cloud. "Because you used me! I loved you, and you used me, and after you passed that damned test, you forgot about me. I needed you, Jim. I needed you to defend me and you didn't do anything," she accused him. "You didn't send me an apology after they kicked me out of Academy!"

Jim paled. "...What?"

"That's right, you bastard: I had to give it all up as penalty for helping you," she snarled. "My family forbade me from seeing them because of the shame of my dismissal. I should have been the first of our kind to succeed in Starfleet! Now I don't even have a home."

"Pieta, that can't be true. You dropped out!"

"All lies—your beloved admirals forced me to quit!"

Jim shook his head. "No... no, that isn't true. You left on your own. I always wondered why, but I thought it was personal. No, Pieta..."

But as he looked at her, he saw the truth in her face. She wasn't lying.

"I was your scapegoat," Pieta told him with undisguised hate. "They said you beat the test because I had compromised the programming of the Kobayashi Maru. They wanted to blame someone. All I had to do was tell them that it was your idea, but I waited instead. I thought you would save me. Instead you chose to save yourself, Jim. And those admirals chose to save you, too, over me." She reached behind her back and took a phaser in hand, bringing it around for him to see. "But you can't be saved this time."

Jim met her eyes. "Pieta, don't do this."

"Oh, I am not going to kill you yet," she informed the man. "I want to, you understand, but now that I see you I think I would rather show you what it feels like to have your dreams taken away." She smiled again. "You have one in particular, Jim—I can tell. Otherwise you wouldn't have brought your lovers on this romantic little cruise."

That burning inside Jim exploded to the surface: "Don't touch them! Hurt me if you want to. Kill me. But leave the others out of this. This is between you and me."

"Oh, how sweet. You love them."

He ground his back teeth, hating to plead but knowing she wanted it of him. "_Please_, Pieta."

She activated the phaser. "No, I don't think I will. By the way, that mirror isn't made of glass. It would have been useless to you. I was simply curious to see how much of our operative training you remembered."

She raised her weapon, the whine of it not quite at a pitch for a kill setting.

"Pieta!" he had just enough time to cry.

Then she stunned him.

* * *

The way the fellow yelled, one would think he was being tortured. Tortured, however, Essler was not—unless it was personal torture he was inflicting upon himself.

Somehow, Leonard didn't think that was the case. Essler looked scared (which was to be expected since Leonard had expertly tied him to a chair with pillow cases) but when he spoke, he wasn't concerned with himself. He kept saying Jim's name.

Leonard cut his eyes at the person beside him and hoped Spock had more luck in understanding Essler's distress than he did.

Nothing in Spock's face reflected his thoughts as they listened to their captive's frantic begging to be released "for Captain's Kirk sake!"

"You have to let me go," Essler insisted. "Jim needs me!"

"You let us worry about Jim," Leonard remarked. "Worry more about yourself. What were you trying to do? Why did you attack me?"

"I wasn't attacking you!"

"The way you jumped on me suggests otherwise."

"Dr. McCoy, please, I didn't mean it. Let me go, and I'll explain!"

Again, Leonard looked to Spock.

Spock supplied quietly, "He speaks the truth as he understands it."

Leonard put his back to Essler and lowered his voice. "Can you get a read on anything else? How about his intentions? Is he gonna bolt the moment I take those bonds off of him... or worse?"

"It would not be wise to release him. I do not doubt that he presents a danger to us."

"But if we can get him to trust us long enough to learn more..."

Spock gave Leonard a sharp look. "Are you willing to risk yourself to earn that trust?"

"Aren't you?" Leonard fired back.

Something softened in the Vulcan's countenance. "I cannot deny it," he said, "but I would prefer that I alone assume the risk."

Leonard sighed. "That's not how it works, Spock."

"Unfortunately. We seem to find ourselves at this impasse with frequency."

Leonard felt a flash of amusement. "Only as often as we find trouble."

Spock lifted his eyebrow as if to say _is that not my point?_

"Um, excuse me," Essler called out. "Aren't you going to untie me?"

Leonard met Spock's eyes.

Seeming resigned to a decision he didn't particularly like, the Vulcan nodded ever-so-slightly.

Leonard turned around and started to cross over to Essler. He didn't make it, however, when without warning he grew dizzy and sick to his stomach. He flung an arm out on instinct but by the time Spock had caught his arm, the sensation had vanished as quickly as it had come upon him.

Spock, too, sported an unnervingly pale tint to his skin. Although he gripped Leonard's arm, it was as if it was Spock who needed the support. His gaze was unfocused, his lips parted.

Leonard touched the Vulcan's wrist and called his name uncertainly.

"_Jim_," Spock echoed in a rough voice. "I felt Jim."

Oh god, thought Leonard. That was Jim?

"Leonard..." Spock continued haltingly, as if still caught up in a shockwave, "...there was a moment... pain... he cried out."

Leonard didn't like how cold Spock's skin had gotten. He covered the hand on his arm with his own and squeezed the fingers.

Spock's head turned, and as he looked at Leonard, his eyes regained focus.

"You all right?" Leonard asked him softly.

"Yes."

"Is—" Leonard swallowed hard. "—Jim all right?"

"I wish I knew. The connection was broken."

Spock started to say something else but stopped, taking on a look that Leonard recognized well.

"What is it?"

"Until now I have not been able to gain a sense of his well-being, which as you know occurs when the consciousness is muted, distracted, or otherwise contained."

"Yes, I know. The bond is not a real big help when one of us is knocked out."

"On the contrary, it would be very useful for rousing the consciousness if I were able to physically touch one of you. But that is not my point, Leonard."

Leonard crossed his arms. "So what is your point?"

"We were both affected by his distress because it was strong... and close by."

Leonard's heart started to pound again but not out of fear. "Can you estimate his proximity?"

Spock prowled to the opposite side of the room, then towards the door. He said, "No more than five hundred meters in any direction."

"Spock..." Leonard was swamped by panic and gratitude at the same time. He dashed for the medkit which had been discarded on the bed. "That's just this deck!"

Essler piped up, "There are only five suites on this level because they were designed to be spacious."

"Minus ours," Leonard added, "that leaves us with four. "

Essler said excitedly, "If we each check one, we could—"

"No," Leonard interrupted at the same time Spock said, "Negative."

"What?" gaped the young man. "You can't be serious! I'll help you!"

"Sorry, kid, but we don't trust you," said Leonard.

"But I can help—I can save Captain Kirk!" Essler nearly made his chair hop up and down, so adamant was he in his declaration.

"For the love of God," muttered the doctor. He took a hypospray from the medkit and activated it.

Essler's eyes grew wide. "What is that?"

"A sedative."

"Stop him, Mr. Spock!" said the young man, aghast, as Leonard came towards him.

"I see no reason why I should, Lieutenant-Commander."

Leonard had pressed the hypospray just lightly against the side of Essler's neck when Essler let out a half-shriek and cried, "WAIT! I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE ORB!"

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Essler whimpered. "I'll tell you everything! I swear."

"Good enough for me," said Leonard. He pocketed the hypospray. "Spock?"

"He can be left conscious for now, provided that he give us answers upon our return."

Essler whimpered for the second time. "I promise... But you're not going to let me save Jim?"

Leonard patted the young man's back in an almost fatherly manner. "That's our job."

"Because he's your captain."

Leonard couldn't help but smile. "Because he's our husband."

Essler's mouth opened, and stayed open.

Spock glided past them without a word.

"Now, when we get back," Leonard said to Essler, "I expect you to be here. It's time that people on this ship stopped lying to us, and you should be the first."

Essler closed his mouth. But as Leonard moved to follow Spock, he asked them, "You knew all along that I didn't do anything to Captain Kirk, didn't you?"

Leonard glanced backwards over his shoulder. "Considerin' all the hullabuloo you made over him, it was obvious. But it was also obvious that you are involved in this mess some way or another that we don't know about. That's the reason we don't trust you, Essler. It has nothing to do with Jim."

Spock called Leonard's name from the doorway.

Leonard gave Essler one last, hard look before he left him behind, along with the warning, "Stay put, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant-commander agreed.

* * *

Outside the suite, Leonard blew out a breath and wanted to know what the game plan was.

Spock surveyed the hall in one direction, then the other.

Clicking his medkit to his belt, Leonard felt a tick of irritation. "Spock, we don't have all day."

"I am aware of that."

"Then pick—left or right, I don't care which!"

"No."

"Lord," Leonard said, lifting his eyes heavenward, "grant me patience to deal with this Vulcan. 'Course, you haven't done it all the other times I asked..."

"Leonard, this is not the time to indulge in histronics."

"Oh, ho! Histronics? You ain't seen...!" But Leonard stopped himself short of losing his temper and forced himself to count to five. At Spock's raised eyebrows, he said, "You're right. We can't needle at each other right now. If we really got started, without Jim we might never stop."

"I doubt he influences our behavior that much," Spock said in a slightly dry tone.

"He likes to think he does."

"Indeed."

"So tell me what's bothering you."

Spock looked at him. "I would not recommend that we split up."

Leonard had sympathy for the Vulcan. "It's not your fault, Spock. You couldn't have known."

"I did know the risks."

"And voiced them, no doubt, to which Jim said no anyway because he was too focused on catching up to the bad guy." One side of Leonard's mouth gained a slight quirk. "I'm not Jim. We're not splitting up. Believe me, I have no desire to become the last man standing."

"I find it interesting," Spock said he pivoted on the ball of his foot and headed for the closest suite to theirs, "that you assume I would be the next victim."

"What can I say? I'm so much wilier than a Vulcan. Anybody would have a hard time catching me!"

"Ah. Then am I to believe it was a momentary aberration which led to your capture in the public facilities?"

Leonard jabbed an elbow into Spock's arm. "Stop baiting me, hobgoblin, and ring the doorbell."

"As you wish." Spock pressed the door chime.

No one answered them immediately. Leonard was pondering how they would break in if no one was home when the door finally back to reveal the suite's occupant.

"Hello," Spock said gravely. "I am S'chn T'gai Spock, and this is—"

"Leonard," Leonard butted in with his deepest Southern drawl. "Leonard McCoy. Nice to meet you, ma'am. It seems we're neighbors."

"Hello," replied the woman who had been regarding Spock with polite interest. Her shoulders relaxed a little as she transferred her regard to Leonard. "Can I help you, Mr. McCoy?"

"Well, we were hoping to ask a favor of you... Oh," he said, casting a glance over her shoulder as if the thought had just occurred to him, "I hope we weren't interrupting anything important. Is this a bad time to be bothering you?"

"Not at all. What kind of favor?"

"It may seem strange," Leonard began, "but could we take a quick look around? Not," he added, "that we want to pry into your business! You see, me and the old Vulcan here—my husband, by the way—" Leonard gave a pat to Spock's shoulder "—were having an argument."

Hearing this, Spock looked at him with interest.

"It's our wedding anniversary."

"Congratulations," the woman said.

Leonard rocked back on his heels and beamed. "Thank you. To make a long story short, being our anniversary and all, I booked this cruise and, well," he lowered his voice and held a hand near his mouth as if that shielded his whisper from his spouse, "Spock can be a bit picky about where he sleeps. He doesn't believe that we have the best room on the ship. But I say we do! We're paying out the nose for it after all."

The woman gave them a tolerant, amused smile. "And how long have you two been married?"

"Two years," Leonard said.

Spock corrected, "One year, three-hundred and sixty-three days, three hours and nine minutes."

"Wow," said their neighbor. "Talk about keeping count!"

"He's like that," responded Leonard with a grin. "I'm used to it."

She laughed. "Are you sure it's only been two years? You act like you've been married for a couple of decades at least!"

"Let's just say that the honeymoon phase was very short."

Eyes twinkling, the woman stepped back from her doorway and gestured for them to come in. Leonard walked ahead of Spock and tried not to be too obvious about his desire to look around.

Their host remarked, "I have never met any Vulcan-human couples before. Can I ask how you met?"

"Oh, at work," Leonard murmured. "Hey, this place does look fancier than ours. Spock, you may have been right. I think they jipped us! We should demand a refund."

"Try for complimentary spa services instead," Leonard and Spock were advised.

"We might do that." Leonard's eyes sparkled as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the bedroom. "Do you mind?"

The woman continued to smile. "I wouldn't have let you in otherwise."

Leonard nudged Spock forward as he said, "We appreciate your kindness. Sweetheart, since this is your ego I'm trying to soothe, you lead the way."

The look the Vulcan leveled at him was very close to what humans call 'dirty'. Apparently Spock saw no humor in being labeled the fussy one in their relationship. Leonard was fairly certain Spock would get his revenge later on. Whoever believed that Vulcans were peaceful beings had never met an insulted Vulcan before. That thought tickled Leonard.

He reined his amusement in and focused on surveying his surroundings. They both kept their hands to themselves as they entered the woman's bedroom. Leonard expected to see a room that was more lived in, but the bed was made and any luggage was stowed away.

"She's very neat," he observed.

"Or spends little of her time in this room," Spock hypothesized.

Leonard dropped his voice to a whisper. "What're the chances a beautiful woman is occupying a state room all by herself?"

"I would not care to guess."

"I'll check the bathroom." Leonard veered in that direction.

"Dr. McCoy," he heard from behind him.

He turned to see the woman leaning against the side of the open doorway, watching them. "Are you looking for something in particular?" she asked.

"No," he started to say but Spock interrupted him.

"Leonard never indicated his profession."

"I know that," she replied quite calmly, "...Commander."

Spock unclasped his hands from behind his back. Recognizing the action of a warning sign, Leonard shifted to the side to give him and Spock both room to move.

"You have us at a disadvantage then," Spock said, his tone equally calm. "You know us but we do not know you."

"An oversight. I apologize. My name is Pieta. I was coming to look for you—both of you, actually."

Leonard's stomach sank when she revealed that the hand behind her back was holding a phaser. Spock tensed.

"Thank you for coming to find me instead," she said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping forward. "I was afraid that by the time we met, Jim would be awake again and causing trouble."

The blood rushed out of Leonard's head, leaving him feeling slightly dizzy. "And where is Jim?"

"Where you were headed next obviously."

Leonard started towards the door that separated him from Jim.

"Please don't."

When Leonard turned back to her upon hearing her tone, he discovered that he was the phaser's target. "Let us see him," he insisted.

"Not yet," Pieta countered. "We have to pick up a little gift first." She studied them for a few seconds. "But not all of us."

There was only a split second to recognize her intention as the phaser's aim shifted. Leonard cried a warning but it was too late. Spock crumpled.

Leonard caught Spock's upper body before his head could hit the floor. Although Leonard's brain had registered the fact that Spock had only been stunned, the rest of Leonard was stiff with terror. As he clutched the Vulcan by the shoulders, Spock's head lolled to the side.

"You didn't have to do that!" he exclaimed.

"Why, Dr. McCoy, you sound scared."

Leonard stretched Spock out on the floor and reassured himself that Spock was still alive by taking his pulse. He had a fairly good idea of how long it would be before Spock regained consciousness. Spock, Leonard knew, would say it was logical that of the two of them, he should be stunned. He would spout statistics about his impressive recovery rate.

Leonard also knew that being stunned played havoc with anyone's system, and no matter what Spock said, he wouldn't wake up with a pleasant feeling.

_Damn it!_ he thought, and stood up.

"Well," he said, not feeling very nice, "am I next?"

"Don't antagonize me, Doctor. I have gone to a lot of trouble these past few days to secure this opportunity. We'll see this to the end. Whether or not I have to kill you—that's up to you."

This was déjà-vu for certain. Leonard sighed through his nose. "You're not the first person to threaten my life in so many days. In fact, you're not even the first lady to do it."

"If you're referring to the partner of the man I killed, I'm sure her body has been discovered by now."

The way she talked of death so blithely made him sick. "Why?"

"Why?" she repeated.

"Why did you have to kill them? Why did you take Jim?"

Pieta regarded him with an arrogant tilt to her chin. "It's better to ask what I'm planning next, don't you think?" She motioned for him to come closer. "I'll show you. Let's go."

Leonard didn't want to go with her. He wanted to stay with Spock, with Jim (if she was to be believed that Jim was nearby). But more than anything, Leonard wanted to turn back the clock and stop himself, Spock, and Jim from ever stepping foot on this cruiser.

He cast his gaze down to Spock, who would not stir for several more minutes, and had an idea.

"Don't worry about your Commander. We won't even tie him up. I want him to come after us."

Leonard didn't like the sound of that.

"I want him to bring Jim along too," Pieta went on to say. "Then we will find out what kind of man your captain really is."

"I know what kind of man he is," Leonard told her, " but apparently you don't. That doesn't matter, though." He sighed again, aloud this time, knelt down and assumed a cross-legged position beside Spock.

Pieta came forward, snapping out in alarm, "What are you doing?"

Leonard didn't bother to look at her as he reached for Spock's hand. "Resting my old bones. Plus, I promised my Vulcan that we wouldn't separate." He huffed but the sound held no humor to it. "I guess you're going to have to stun me too."

"Get up!"

Leonard just shook his head and rubbed Spock's knuckles with his thumb.

She came closer.

_Spock,_ he thought, _if ever there was a time..._

Something stirred, not in his head, not _his_ head.

"I said get up!"

_Spock,_ Leonard coaxed again, a little more forcefully. Hadn't Spock said the bond was useful for bringing one of them to consciousness?

A hard object pressed to the back of his skull, the muzzle of the phaser, and a familiar smell like ozone reached his nostrils. A significant charge was building up within the weapon.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Pieta said, looming over him. "I don't need you!"

"Few do," the doctor said plainly, "except these two."

A subtle movement behind Spock's eyelids caught Leonard's attention.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he said.

Spock's eyes opened at the same moment a crash came from within the bathroom, followed by the thump of something hitting the inside of the closed bathroom door.

Leonard didn't think. He reached behind him, locked his hand around the phaser and jerked it sideways. Pieta gave a cry as she stumbled. Her arm went with it. With her finger still on the trigger, the phaser jumped in both their hands—and across the room a large bed fell victim to its power, disintegrating in a sudden bright flash.

The bathroom door hissed open, then, and a body fell through it, rolled, came up on its knees.

Leonard felt an arm slide behind his back, crush him against Spock's chest as Spock came swinging up into a sitting position, other arm reaching past Leonard. Spock's arm must have been impossibly long, Leonard would think later, to have so precisely targeted the juncture of their assailant's shoulder and neck.

He heard the sound of her body hitting the floor behind him but didn't look, just took a second to breathe. When he did lift his head, it was to find that Jim—a wide awake, furious-looking Jim—had somehow made it over them in that short amount of time. One of Jim's hands had found Leonard's back and twisted into his shirt, presumably the other hand doing much the same to Spock's tunic.

"Are you all right?" Jim demanded of them.

"Are you?" Leonard demanded right back, sitting up straighter for a better view of one of Jim's arms. "You're bleeding!"

"Scratches," said Jim, dismissing the concern.

Spock had twisted around to look at Jim's arm too.

Leonard wiggled out of the Vulcan's hold. "Let me see."

But Jim had released both Spock and Leonard with the intention to move away.

Leonard made a lunge for Jim's shirt collar and snapped, "Get back here! I can see glass in your arm!"

When Jim landed backwards on his rear, he gave Leonard an intense stare. They didn't say anything; they didn't need to in order to acknowledge that fear still had a hold on both of them.

Finally Jim dipped his chin and began to jerk at the bonds around his ankles in an attempt to loosen them. Leonard thought he heard him mutter, "I might have run into a mirror."

Leonard spared a glance for Pieta, found that he hated the fact that she looked so deceptively harmless as she lay unconscious. Spock was working on Jim's bound ankles when he turned back to them. He knew that Spock needed the contact with Jim and didn't begrudge moving aside to give him more room.

"Bones," Jim said, looking up and catching his attention.

"Have to say, Jim-boy, I didn't expect our vacation to be _this_ exciting."

The other man's mouth twitched. Then Jim gazed past Leonard, his entire face tightened and something like pain appeared in his eyes.

"You know her," Leonard guessed softly.

"Yes," Jim said, "I do."

Spock straightened up, having freed Jim's ankles. "Jim, do you know if she is the killer?"

"She is," he confirmed.

"The Bajoran is dead too," Leonard added grimly. "She confessed that to me."

Spock's words were grave as he reminded them, "A confession resolves some matters but not all. We have yet to determine the whereabouts of the Prophet's Tear."

Jim looked grim. "Or into whose hands it has fallen. Spock, relay a message to Captain Roraqk. Inform him that we have the murderer in custody—and also that, by order of Starfleet, I am taking command of this vessel."

"Is that a good idea, Jim? He'll challenge you on it."

"If I think of a better one, Bones, I'll let you know."

Leonard looked to Spock, but Spock voiced no opinion on the matter and rose to his feet to obey.

Leonard gave in, reaching for Jim's closest arm and the medkit that had miraculously stayed clipped to his belt. "While Spock's rousing the whole ship, let me look at you. What's this about running into a mirror?"

"The hand-mirror wasn't glass," Jim replied, as if that should make perfect sense.

"Fool." Leonard said the word softly but it had no heat behind it. "I guess I should be grateful that you're alive."

"I am too, Bones... I am too."

That Jim didn't mean himself, Leonard knew without having to ask.

They were together now, he thought, but a darker side to him had to wonder how long that would last.


	8. Part Eight

**Basically I wrote one version of these last two chapters, then wrote another and posted the one that I liked. :/ **

* * *

**Part Eight**

The woman in the brig was awake but oddly impassive. She had not shifted the slightest bit after settling herself on the long bench of her cell and looked at no one.

"...I believe you," the captain of the _Star Maiden_ said with gruff reluctance to the others in the brig. If Pieta looked at no one, he only had eyes for her.

"We have no reason to lie, Roraqk," Jim replied, for a moment sounding almost weary. He admitted, "I didn't see this coming."

"No one could," murmured Leonard from Jim's side. He strengthened his voice. "It's obvious she's not in her right mind. She's killed two people."

"Murderers rarely are in their right mind, Doctor," came the remark from Kirk's opposite side.

Leonard rolled his eyes at Spock but didn't offer a contradiction.

Jim took hold of the conversation before his two companions discovered a subject they could really disagree about. Sadly, the vacation was ruined and he didn't have time to enjoy their antics.

To Roraqk, he said, "We may have apprehended the party responsible for the two deaths but this situation is far from over. We think Pieta was in possession of an object that was originally of interest to the victims. We searched her quarters for it, but—"

Roraqk interrupted with "Enough, Kirk. I don't care about some mysterious object. We have the killer and her confession. She's somebody else's problem now."

Leonard bristled at that. "If you would shut up long enough to let us explain, you'd know why it is still your problem!"

"Bones," Jim said.

"He's not listening!"

"At this point, he doesn't have to. We'll take care of it."

Nostrils flaring, Roraqk faced the three men as if he understood the message beneath Jim's words.

Jim met the intense gaze. He said bluntly, "You're incompetent. I'm removing you from duty, Roraqk."

"You can't do that."

"I just have."

Roraqk took a menacing step in the human's direction. "Be careful, Kirk. This isn't Starfleet, and I'm not one of your underlings."

Jim challenged, "But it is Federation space. Your charter is bound to the by-laws whether you like it or not."

"You're not taking my ship."

"My rank is equal to yours. I can if I have to."

"You're not taking my ship!" Roraqk roared this time.

Jim refused to flinch. "I don't see that I have a choice in the matter. You won't take us seriously when we say you are in danger. I don't know how else to convince you—and frankly I don't have the patience for it. Until we reach the starbase, the _Maiden_ is now mine to command."

Roraqk lifted his hands, then dropped them again, flexing his fist like he was imagining the beating he was capable of giving. The bite in his voice spoke of a deep rage as he growled to an officer standing aside, as though there had been no question of who held command: "No one comes in contact with this prisoner until we dock. Don't talk to her, don't look at her, don't even so much as breathe in her direction."

"Now wait a minute," Leonard interrupted, "that's inhumane!"

Roraqk fixed a beady eye on the doctor, finishing, "That's an order."

Unfortunately the officer at his superior's back looked uncertainly from Roraqk to Kirk. Not hearing the automatic 'aye, Captain' that he expected, Roraqk turned in time to see the fellow's indecision.

He snarled, "I'm still captain of this ship."

Quite calmly, Jim said to Roraqk's subordinate, "Monitor her from the security room, Lieutenant."

Roraqk went for Jim's throat.

Spock smoothly stepped in between the two captains. "I would not advise it, sir," he said to the enraged humanoid. Spock didn't have to elaborate on what he meant.

Roraqk wheeled around and threw a wild punch. His fist hit the wall, and the metal dented. The staff who were present winced.

Behind Jim, Leonard sighed and muttered something about being right.

Jim's mouth twitched upward only for a brief second. Then he turned on his heel, donning an air of authority like a familiar cloak, and said, "To the bridge, gentlemen."

Spock and McCoy filed out of the brig after him. Roraqk, however much he seethed, followed the trio not long after.

* * *

"You didn't mention Essler," Leonard said after Jim had stepped onto the bridge and grimly announced the change in captainship to those present there. "Why?"

"I too would like that explanation," said Spock, lending his voice to the inquiry.

Jim glanced aside to the imposing figure of the _Star Maiden_'s former captain, who glowered indiscriminately at everyone from the edge of the platform, and answered in a voice that wouldn't carry. "Consider him a trick card up our sleeve that we may need."

Leonard shared a confused look with Spock. "But, Jim, he's gone AWOL." The doctor narrowed his eyes. "I know I tied those pillow cases damn tight. How could he have possibly gotten out of 'em?"

"Evidently there are many unknowns concerning the Lieutenant-Commander."

"You think?" Leonard shot back to Spock. "He's willing to attack one of us, he knows about the stolen Orb, and he's an escape-artist to boot! I'd say there's a great deal we don't know about him, Spock!"

"Calm down, Bones."

"Don't tell me to calm down," the doctor whispered furiously. "This vacation has turned into some kind of horror sideshow. We don't know what's coming at us next, Jim!"

"Bones," Jim said once again, "can't you tone it down? You're not helping my headache."

Immediately Leonard whipped out a tricorder, seemingly from nowhere, and held it over Jim's head. It whirred as it took readings. "I told you to let me give you a shot. A human's not built to take several paralyzing energy blasts in a row. You're going to develop a migraine at this rate."

Jim winced. "Please don't say that." He waved off the hypospray the doctor started to remove from his medkit.

Leonard pursed his mouth in displeasure but tucked the item away again. To Spock, he said, "He's refusing my help but he won't refuse yours."

Spock tilted in his head in acknowledgement of that.

Jim frowned, looking between them, and insisted, "I'm fine."

Spock only said, "Perhaps," and seemed to direct his attention elsewhere.

Leonard crossed his arms and let his gaze bore a hole into the side of Jim's head. "So," he wanted to know, "what's the plan?"

"We're already scanning for anomalies onboard, Bones."

"Last I heard, the results were coming up negative—which means, thank god, somebody has had sense enough not to take the Orb out of its box and play ball with it."

Jim gave him an un-amused look. "We have to find it before that happens."

"No need to tell me that. I read the case studies on the virus it carries."

Jim's interest was piqued. "Why was it never sterilized?"

Leonard snorted. "You try telling a bunch of fanatics that the very thing on which they base their religion is a piece of contaminated space debris. It was never accepted by the Bajorans that the cause of their leader's prophetic visions was actually delirium from a fever induced by a virus. Our Federation field doctors tried talking sense to them, but at this point any native who agrees with the findings is a heretic. The best that could be done was the agreement to contain the Orbs so that they could be looked at but not touched; at least, not touched by most, except those who are worthy of the experience."

"An experience which is likely to kill them."

"Yeah," Leonard agreed, shoulders rounding downward. "I don't understand how dying is that important."

"For the sake of belief?" Jim said. "Maybe. But not for the sake of politics."

Leonard nodded. "Which is why you're thinking somebody stole one of the Orbs in the first place."

Spock turned his head back in their direction. "Bajorans do make a distinction between governmental and the religious bodies. That is not to say, however, that the religious Assembly and its leader, the Kai, do not remain un-involved in secular affairs. Often the shift of power between the provincial factions is attributed to the Assembly lending its support to one leader over the other. For this reason, I believe the majority of the discontent and unrest in the nations on Bajor stems from the composition of the Assembly itself and in particular which faction the members are willing to represent or refute. Moreover, because it is not a simple matter of election, these members exercise their independence in bestowing their favor—if one discounts the bribery, nepotism, and violence which is likely to influence their decisions." At Leonard's look of disgust, Spock pointed out, "To the Bajorans, this is simply how their world operates. I have perused multiple papers concerning the Bajorans' doctrine of the Prophet. One phrase has been found to be repeated more than any other. The rough translation is: 'Giveth all unto him who is Chosen, for His guidance is our salvation."

"Basically all the power goes to the Bajorans with the closest claim to God," Leonard summarized, "and for the lessers it's a rat race to get their attention."

"So it would seem."

"Wonderful. Then why steal an Orb?"

"Leverage," Jim answered. "Bajorans call them the Prophet's Tears for a reason, Bones. You can't be chosen by the Prophet if you aren't in tune with at least one Orb. My guess is that we have a faction who's reckless and desperate enough to go after one, maybe as ransom, maybe to gain more followers. Who really knows?"

Spock considered this. "I doubt it would be the Paqu or the Nakot, who are the two largest national factions and currently have the favor of the Assembly... Yet there are too many minor factions to single out any one culprit."

"Ugh, I really hate civil wars," Leonard griped. "Now I understand why the Bajorans turned down membership to the Federation. They're too busy duking it out among themselves to care about playing nice with anybody else."

Jim nodded slightly. "That's probably a good thing, Bones."

"Bet you're wishing that we hadn't made first contact with them all those months ago."

Jim's smile was thin. "I'm only paid to seek out the unknown. Don't blame me."

"At this moment, blame is not of consequence," said Spock. "Pieta will not tell us where she has hidden the Orb, and the longer its location remains unknown, the more at-risk this ship becomes."

Leonard swallowed hard. "That's a sobering thought. Why don't I go down to Medical and check out the quarantine procedures on this old boat? When we do find it, we need to be able to stash it somewhere safe if we can't toss it out of an airlock—and honestly I'm not comfortable with the idea of either of you picking up that thing with your bare hands. We just don't know enough about the virus and how it operates in a host environment, and I'm not that desperate for a new research thesis to publish. _Capiche?_"

"We hear you, Bones," said Jim. "You go on. Spock and I need to debrief a security team in the meantime. We will all meet back here in half an hour. Agreed?"

Spock said, "Yes, Captain."

Leonard nodded.

They moved as a unit towards the exit to the bridge.

Ahead of Leonard and Spock, Jim paused just shy of the archway. "Strange," he mused, "my headache's gone." When it dawned on him that that could not be coincidence, he turned abruptly to face the men behind him with narrowed eyes.

An unrepentant Leonard grinned. Spock simply blinked at them both, adopting an air of innocence as only someone with excellent control over their facial muscles could.

Once again, his partners had colluded to fix him up without his permission. But Jim knew better than to call them on it. Truthfully, he was grateful to be free of the pain so he could think with a clear mind—as long as the burden of maintaining the mental block didn't wear Spock down. They couldn't afford to be vulnerable, not any of them.

Jim sighed, shook his head, and with determination resumed his heading to the nearest lift.

* * *

"We are going to search this vessel from top to bottom, including the living quarters, passenger and crew alike," Jim told the group of people around him. "Work in pairs, report anything or anyone suspicious, but above all, ladies and gentlemen, do not touch any object that you do not recognize. Call it in to the Bridge immediately, and the Bridge will alert Medical. I cannot be clearer than that in what I expect from you. Understood?"

He was given a round of agreement and handed the floor over to the Chief of Security to coordinate the search plans.

Spock said, "We need to alert the passengers."

"I know," Jim said. "The last thing we need is panic. I can make a ship-wide announcement. I'll say we're performing a required security drill for the crew." He offered Spock a half-smile. "Maybe I'll even add that the captain would like to show his thanks in advance by making the dinner buffet tonight free-of-charge. Oh, and free drinks too!"

Spock said nothing to that.

"Well, I thought it was a good idea," muttered Jim. He turned partly away. "I know we said we'd meet back up with Bones, but could you call to Medical and check his status? I have this nagging feeling that he's causing trouble. He almost took a bite out of that medical officer last time they came face-to-face. I hate to think that he might end up in the brig for brawling."

"Leonard had reason to be concerned," Spock said. "The officer's disregard for protocol was disturbing."

Jim cut his eyes at the Vulcan. "No need to defend Bones' honor to me, Spock. I'm on his side."

Spock's look said _as you should be._ The Vulcan pivoted around and strode away to the nearest wall communication unit.

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. He had made it less than a week without needing to take command of something or someone. This vacation truly wasn't a vacation at all.

But he had to get them out of this, all of them, safely. Bones hadn't really meant to blame him but the man was right: Jim was responsible in a sense for what was happening. Pieta was his fault, at the very least.

Somehow he kept making mistakes, and he didn't why. Was it always going to be like this?

He wished he knew.

Meaning to join Spock across the room, Jim started in that direction but was brought up short by an insistent beeping that he had not encountered in a while. Dropping his gaze to his belt, he removed the personal communicator he had clipped there after their brief return to their quarters. He flipped the device open, saying, "Kirk here."

"Captain?" questioned a scratchy voice.

"Yes," he acknowledged again, "this is Kirk." He wasn't able to drop the brusqueness from his tone. The present moment was hardly the appropriate time for a social call.

"Captain—" the speaker began to spit in stops and starts, "—sir, I mean, _Jim_, this is—"

Jim didn't need to hear the name to know who it was; all-at-once he recognized the man and gave the communicator his full attention. "Essler!" he said loudly, then after looking around purposefully lowered his voice. "Essler," he repeated with some urgency, "where are you?"

"I'm so sorry I couldn't save you, Jim!" the young man blurted out in a rush. "I tried to, I really did, but Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock wouldn't let me. Were you hurt?"

"You're forgiven and, no, I'm perfectly all right," Jim was quick to assure him. The hairs on the back of his neck had risen because, despite the apology, there was a suppressed excitement in the young man's voice that Essler could not quite hide. "Tell me where you are—or better yet, why don't you come to the Bridge?"

Essler's voice lost some of its excitement, then. "I'd better not. Roraqk will demote me."

"Your captain has been temporary relieved of his command."

"...What? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

There was a pause. Then, "Am I Acting Captain?"

Jim almost chuckled. "Unfortunately not. That duty has fallen to me."

He had to jerk the comm to an arm's distance as a terrible screech nearly burst his eardrum.

"Sir! Captain, sir! I can't believe—this is—but how?—_You're my captain now!_" Essler's excitement had returned tenfold.

"Temporarily."

If the young man was this happy about it, Jim could use that to his advantage. He said in his best captain's voice, "Make your report, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Aye, sir! As you probably know, sir, due to a misunderstanding I had been tied up by Dr. McCoy and left in your quarters. When I was a youngster, I was the best of my troop at tackling knots, so Dr. McCoy's were no problem."

"Troop?" Jim questioned.

"Intergalactic Boy Scouts. 'Be prepared!'"

Jim pushed the back of his hand against his mouth to hold in his laughter. "Go on," he urged.

"I escaped."

"Yes, I garnered that. Where are you now?"

"Engineering Deck 2, Sector C next to the engine room." Essler's excitement grew to epic proportions. "Captain, I think I found it!"

Jim's grip tightened instinctively on his communicator. "Found what?"

"Why, the Orb, sir. We can solve the case now! Once I realized you were in danger, I knew I had to break my contract. I'll bring you the Orb."

Jim had snapped upright after the second word. "No!" he barked, garnering the attention of every other person in the room.

Spock came at him at a swift pace.

"Stay where you are," Jim said into the speaker. "We'll come to you. That's an order!"

Essler started to protest with "But, Captain—" and was, without warning, cut off as the line went dead.

Jim's 'red alert' along the back of his neck turned in a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Jim?" Spock said sharply, coming abreast of him.

"I hope Bones found something of use in the med bay," Jim said, meeting the Vulcan's dark eyes. "The Orb's been located."

* * *

Spock ended the call with a rather abrupt goodbye, and Leonard was left staring at the computer console in dismay. Now why had Spock insinuated that there wasn't time for him pass judgment on someone else's Sickbay? He wasn't going to fault the poor medical staff for having to work with the 23rd century equivalent of stone tools.

Of course, Leonard thought, eyeing his surroundings, the staff consisted of only one individual who didn't seem very interested at all in whether or not he could had the proper equipment to perform a medical procedure.

Said individual was tapping staring at him from the other side of the table with impatience, like Leonard was a gnat that had come around to bother him.

"Did you think of something?" Leonard wanted to know. "We have to have a secure storage compartment. At bare minimum an iso-field."

"This is a tourist cruiser, Dr. McCoy, not one of your Federation ships. I have two exam beds, a supply closet, and an office."

Leonard crossed his arms. "What about your stasis room?"

The other doctor's eyes narrowed at him.

Leonard rolled his eyes heavenward. Communicating with this man was akin to speaking to a wooden board. He huffed and went to the rear of the bay.

The _Star Maiden_'s sole medical officer caught up to him rather quickly and latched onto his arm. "I don't want you disturbing my work area, McCoy," he insisted.

"You act like I'm only here to pester you!" Leonard snapped back. "This is about the safety of the ship!" He jerked his arm away and demanded the code to access the stasis room.

For a long minute, it was a silent battle of wills between them. Then Leonard's opponent seemed to come to some decision and grudgingly gave the voice command to open the door.

Leonard strode into the room. It wasn't large, but he expected that. Along the wall decorated with built-in cold chambers, he pressed the padd to open one of them.

"This will have to do," he said, looking into the long, empty container that presented itself for his inspection. "I think as long as the case containing the Orb isn't damaged or removed, we can transport it without risk to ourselves. But if it comes open..."

"I know the danger, Dr. McCoy."

Leonard shot his companion a side-glance. "Then why in blazes are you so nonchalant about a biohazard?"

The man shrugged. "It's the nature of the business, I guess."

That was an odd response, Leonard thought to himself. He closed the container and watched it slide back into the wall. It wasn't until he starting turning away from the wall that he noticed something strange. He stared hard at the other chambers, all of which had control panels that blinked back an inactive status.

A chill crawled down his spine.

"Where did you store the bodies?" he asked.

Silence met his answer.

Leonard turned around.

The stony-faced man in the open doorway met his eyes, making his intent clear without words, and then took a long step backwards.

Leonard lunged for the door, but it hissed shut before he could reach it and the lock engaged.

Slamming his hand against the clear panel separating him from the outer bay, he demanded, "What are you doing?"

"My apologies, Dr. McCoy," came the voice through the wall comm, "but I did warn you to say out of my work area."

"Let me out of here!"

"That would be unwise." His captor paused. "Yet I suppose I do owe you an explanation; after all, we are colleagues in a certain sense."

Leonard's mouth formed a thin line. They weren't colleagues. This man wasn't a real doctor, and they both knew it.

"You destroyed the bodies," he guessed. "You never intended to turn them over to the authorities, did you?"

"On the contrary, we fully intended to—up until my captain realized who killed them." The man's face twisted into a sneer. "I told Roraqk that woman was nothing but trouble, and now the bitch has made a mess of everything in the name of revenge. But we'll clean things up, rest assured of that." He turned away.

"Wait!" Leonard cried, beating against the door again. "The Orb is still out there! We're still in danger!"

The man kept walking away.

Leonard bit out a cry of frustration and took several steps back to survey what he was up against. He didn't know the design of this ship; it wasn't the Enterprise.

That didn't mean Spock had not taught him a thing or two in the years of their commission together. He found what he was looking for and peeled a tiny panel off the wall beside the door. A circuit board and a jumble of colored wires greeted him.

Jim and Spock were walking into a trap. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. It wasn't just that Roraqk had lied to them, had broken the law. Something else was motivating the decisions of the ship's captain. Something he, Jim, and Spock had failed to recognize.

Leonard said a prayer under his breath as he began separating the wires.

Now, which color was it that Spock had told him usually represented the tripwire?

"Damn it," he cursed, and yanked at one.


	9. Part Nine

**Parts Eight and Nine have been posted together. Please make sure you have read Part Eight first!**

* * *

**Part Nine**

Jim was not surprised to find Roraqk waiting to join them on the turbolift. He knew as soon as they made the call to the bridge that Roraqk would use the opportunity to reassert his command.

Jim said, "We placed a call into Medical. They'll meet us in Engineering."

Roraqk's medical officer had given a terse acknowledgement of the location they relayed and clicked off the line before Jim could speak to Bones. That didn't sit right with him but he didn't have the time to worry about it.

Had Essler released the container around the Orb? Wouldn't he know better? That was what frightened Jim.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's move," growled Roraqk.

Jim, Spock, Roraqk and his Chief of Security boarded the lift.

"How did you find it?" Roraqk wanted to know.

"Essler did."

Roraqk gave a half-snort. "So, the squirt came through after all."

Jim glanced sidelong at the captain. "He thought you would be angry with him."

"I'm considering it."

"He's not seasoned, Roraqk, and he's excitable. I think you were premature in making him your second-in-command. I won't disagree that he has the potential, but he needs more experience."

"I had my reasons." Roraqk regarded Kirk with slit eyes. "Why does it matter to you?"

It shouldn't, but when Jim saw Essler, he thought of himself as a young whippersnapper of an officer: ready for adventure and immature enough to believe wisdom was inherent, not earned, when it came to the captain's chair. It wasn't something he liked to admit but at Essler's age, he had been far from ready to take command. Training under the right leadership had shown him that.

Roraqk was not the right captain for Essler. Jim knew he wasn't either. An idol didn't always make the perfect mentor. He was certain, however, that there had to be a good fit out there. All that remained was _where?_

Jim sighed through his nose and answered the question by saying, "I only wanted to offer my opinion."

"Next time, Kirk, don't share it."

Jim looked to Spock. There were some people in the galaxy, they both knew, who weren't worth the argument.

The turbolift delivered them to the Engineering Deck, and Roraqk took the lead. It took their group only a few twists and turns to find the correct sector.

Roraqk drew to a stop just outside an archway and pointed out an area to the right. "Beyond that wall is Engine 1. For your own safety, stay out of there."

"Where are your engineers, the Yar?" Spock questioned.

Roraqk said cryptically, "You won't see them unless they want to see you, Mr. Spock." He strode through the archway to the left, roaring the name "ESSLER!" as he went.

Essler came hurrying out of a tiny, dark room, saying, "My comm died!" but stopped abruptly when he saw the towering bulk of his former captain.

"Essler," Jim called, sliding around Roraqk, "where is it?"

"In the control room, Captain. I think one of the Yar brought it down here, but they ran off before I could ask them any questions." Essler made excited motions with his hands. "It's a box with strange symbols. I really think we have it!"

"You didn't open the box?" Jim asked sharply.

"No," Essler assured him. "I couldn't figure out how to open it."

Relief washed through Jim.

Roraqk made a signal to the Chief of Security, who started forward.

"Wait," Jim tried to delay them, "we need to wait for Medical."

"It needs to be transferred with care," Spock added. "If the box is inadvertently opened—"

"The Prophet's Tear was discovered on my vessel, and that makes it my responsibility," Roraqk said. "I will be the one to hand it over. You two can leave now, and take your doctor with you. Despite the trouble you've caused me these last few days, I promise to put in a word with the charter to refund for your money. Everybody wins."

Jim had straightened halfway through Roraqk's speech. "How did you know it's a Prophet's Tear?"

Roraqk narrowed his eyes. "You said that's what it was."

"I didn't—did I, Spock?"

"No, Jim. At no time in the presence of Captain Roraqk did you mention the specifics of the object we were searching for."

"Kirk," Roraqk said, "I'm warning you and your Vulcan to stay out of this."

Essler moved in between them. "You can't threaten Captain Kirk!"

Roraqk held out a hand to his other officer. "Your phaser, Lieutenant."

The Security Chief handed it over and asked, "Should I retrieve the Orb now, Captain?"

"Go for it," replied Roraqk.

Essler's eyes widened. "Why do you need a phaser?"

"Spock," Jim said in warning, seeing where this was headed.

They all heard the click of boot heels that proceeded a newcomer to their little party.

As the man came into view of the archway, Roraqk said, "You're late."

Jim paled, realizing that the newcomer wasn't accompanied by Leonard.

Spock questioned sharply, "Where is Dr. McCoy?"

"Alive," said the man who walked past them, dismissing them as quickly as he glanced in their direction. He held up a large case to Roraqk. "It's the best we've got."

"I don't care if you stick the damn thing in your pocket. Just don't lose it, or none of us get paid."

"What's going on?" Essler demanded.

"We've been betrayed," Jim said softly. "Which faction paid you to retrieve the missing Orb, Roraqk?"

"I didn't ask. I just follow orders from the higher-ups like every other starship captain who earns a wage."

Essler shook his head. "But it can't be... _My_ mission was to find it!"

Roraqk snorted. "Squirt, you let it go missing the first place."

"No, I didn't! I switched the passenger bags so I could collect it later." He said to Jim, "I didn't know it was going to end up in your room. I'm sorry, Jim."

"Did you intend to hurt anyone in order to complete your mission, Essler?" Jim asked him.

"No, sir."

"Then I can forgive you." Jim looked hard at Roraqk. "But I have no sympathy for you, mister. I think I see how this goes... You knew that if the Orb went missing, the ones who stole it from Bajor would tear this ship apart looking for it. That's why you brought Essler onboard. He would take the Orb, and then _he_would be the decoy while you stole it from him and turned it over for a profit."

"I can't deny that," Roraqk said.

"However the murders were not planned," Spock surmised. "You did not anticipate that someone else on the ship would have a different agenda—or a vengeance to satisfy."

"There's always an unknown in this universe, Mr. Spock." Roraqk shifted his weight. "Unfortunately, you do know how this is going to end. I told you to walk away. You should have listened to me."

Jim stepped up to the other captain. "Roraqk, you don't have to do this. If you return the Orb to where it came from, you've committed no crime. You have the killer in custody."

"She is the Captain's woman," Roraqk said in a softer tone. "That makes her my responsibility too."

Jim didn't know what to say to that.

"You've got morals, Kirk, and I'm not going to fault you for them. But I have my own code to live by, and right now it's telling me that I can do something for Pieta that you never did. Now, move to the wall. You too, Vulcan. Don't try anything. Essler, come over here. You found the Prophet's Tear. I'll reward you for that."

To Jim's dismay, Essler shook his head.

"Essler," Jim barked, as if he were speaking to one of his own lieutenants, "do as he says."

"No, sir, I won't."

"Fine by me," Roraqk agreed mildly, and shot the man.

* * *

Well, it could have been worse, decided Leonard. Instead of burnt fingertips, he could have electrocuted himself. Imagine explaining that to Jim and Spock.

Calling up the bridge, he had been informed everyone took a trip to Engineering.

Leonard looked up at the sign on the wall and frowned. Heck, he was in Engineering so where was everybody? The area was ominously deserted, and dimly lit to boot. It was as if his remark about a horror sideshow had finally come true.

The hairs on the back of Leonard's neck stood up as he moved farther along the open floor space. He heard the low hum of what had to be an engine, but it was fainter than that of the warp core that powered a constitution-class starship.

"Jim?" he called out.

Suddenly he had the eerie sensation of someone standing behind him. Leonard turned around but found no one there. His unease doubled.

"...Spock?"

The floor dropped off ahead not unlike the edge of a cliff, but one that had a precautionary railing. Below was a large pit. It was so dark on the lower level that no matter how far Leonard leaned over the railing, he could not make out more than shadows.

_Who could possibly work in an environment like this?_ he had to wonder.

Leonard crossed a gangway that bridged the distance to the opposite side and descended a set of stairs into the darkness. The air of the room seemed thicker here, almost like the humidity of Georgia. He knew then that he was extremely close to the compartment that would house the core of the engine.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement in one of the deeper shadows—but once again nothing was there when he turned in that direction.

What was it that Spock had said about the Yar? That they were reclusive? One thing was obvious: nobody from the upper decks of the ship was here except him.

It seemed almost silly to offer a greeting. Leonard did it anyway.

When no one responded, he said more firmly, "My name is Leonard McCoy—Doctor Leonard McCoy. Is there someone here with me?"

He heard a clicking noise to his right.

Then it came from his left, followed immediately by clicking at a different pitch up ahead.

It wasn't machinery, he realized quickly. The sounds he was hearing were akin to bird calling, a kind of communication that he couldn't understand and, perhaps, not even fully register with his human ears. The Yar were speaking to each other.

Crap. Did they speak Standard? He wished he had thought to bring a universal translator.

"I can't see you," he told them. "Could one of you come forward?"

Something scuttled across the gangway overhead. It moved too fast for Leonard to see it.

He sighed and crossed his arms. "Listen, if y'all are tryin' to spook me, it's not going to work. I'm not here to give you trouble. I just want to know where my team is!"

He felt a tug on his pants leg.

Looking down, he was faced with one of the smallest humanoid creatures he had ever seen. It had arms longer than its legs and a tiny heart-shaped, pale face with deep-set eyes and a snub nose. It wore the jumpsuit of a ship's engineer.

"Pleased to meet you," Leonard said. "Do you have a name?"

It click-whistled at him.

"Sorry but I didn't catch that. Can you understand me?"

The engineer nodded.

"Thank god," said Leonard. "Have you seen another human and a Vulcan?"

The Yar shook his head.

"Damn! Where have they gone? I know I'm in Engineering!"

Again, the Yar shook his head. He pointed to a distant wall.

"This isn't Engineering?"

When his companion nodded, Leonard was thoroughly confused.

The Yar made a motion for Leonard to follow him. They went over to the wall, and immediately, Leonard saw what the Yar had been pointing at. The sign read _Engine Room 2_.

He was on the wrong side of the ship! Jim and Spock were in trouble, and here he was on the wrong side!

Leonard hurried back to the stairs.

He didn't reach it before a handful of Yar, all looking like exact replicas of the first one, appeared out of various nooks and crannies and blocked his path. As a unit, they pointed in another direction.

"I don't have time for this!" he told them. It would take him several minutes at least to get to a turbolift, then he had to go to an upper deck, cross it, and take another lift down again.

They kept pointing.

When the first Yar tugged again on his pants, Leonard swallowed his frustration. "What is it?"

The Yar wanted Leonard to follow him again and seemed determined to make Leonard do it.

Leonard finally caved. They approached an alcove, where the Yar jumped up to a ledge with several of his look-alikes. Working together, they opened a hatch.

Leonard eyed the narrow opening dubiously. "So this is how you get from one engine to the other without being seen by the rest of the crew." He hesitated. "Is it going to be faster than my other option?"

Collectively the Yar nodded.

The tube certainly didn't look big enough for a grown man. "Are you sure?"

The Yar's answer was to crowd behind Leonard and shove him forward at the opening with their tiny hands. How they managed to cram him in and shut the hatch on him when he was ten times their size, he would never be able to figure out.

Inside the tube there was no light to guide Leonard. He gave a perfunctory kick to the locked hatch and began to crawl forward, muttering, "I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm a doctor, not a pint-sized engineer!"

How far did this tube go? What if he got stuck?

As his thoughts took a very unpleasant turn, Leonard started to sweat and feel queasy. He wasn't claustrophobic in most circumstances, but this present situation might just become the exception. He would never, ever crawl through something this small again.

His knees and elbows ached badly by the time he thought he must be halfway through.

"Worst vacation ever," he grumbled to himself. This was worse than that time with the white rabbit and the knight on horseback who stabbed him.

He complained to his heart's content, and loudly too, knowing that if he stopped, he would then begin to panic. The air in the tube was stale, and that was hardly conducive for stalling hyperventilation.

At last, his knuckles connected with something hard and cold in front of him. He groped at it and recognized the inner wheel he had to turn to open the hatch door from the inside. With relief, Leonard did exactly that.

* * *

The scene wasn't pretty: Essler was down, alive but unconscious, and Jim was furious. Roraqk had him pinned in place, though, with the phaser pointed at Spock's chest and not his own.

"You're making a mistake," Jim told Roraqk.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Really?" taunted Jim. "Is that why you stunned Essler instead of killing him?"

"Jim," Spock said in a tone that meant _don't antagonize the one holding the phaser_.

Roraqk countered, "Do you want me to kill him, Captain?" He aimed the phaser at the young man instead of Spock.

Jim bit his tongue. "No," he conceded. "I would rather that you didn't kill anybody."

"Yet I cannot trust you to forget anything that you have seen or learned today."

"Roraqk, this is wrong and you know it. You're better than this."

"I should be better, but here I am in command of a two-bit cruiser, spending most of my time placating rich fools and whiny brats. I'm paid a pittance for my services, and I'm never thanked. You don't understand. I'll make enough money from this that I can quit and find something more honorable." Roraqk's jaw twitched. "But why am I explaining this to you? You're the great Captain Kirk! You were never overlooked because you didn't conform to the standard."

Roraqk didn't know the half of it. Jim had never tried to conform in his life. He thought he could say something more, something that would change Roraqk's mind, but just then the security officer came out of the control room, carrying in his hands a small black box.

Just looking at it, knowing what it held, Jim's heart rate picked up.

The doctor popped the lid on the containment unit and said, "Put it in."

"Be careful," Jim warned them. "If you let the virus out, it won't matter who shoots whom. We're all be infected."

"Virus?" Roraqk said sharply, for the first time seeming to be caught off guard.

The doctor lifted his head and glared at Jim.

Jim looked between Roraqk and his medical officer. "Didn't he tell you?"

"What's this about a virus?"

"The Prophet's Tear," Spock informed Roraqk, "is in actuality an object of unknown origins on which micro-organisms, also of unknown origins, have thrived for many thousands of years. Bajor is one of the oldest civilizations in the Alpha Quadrant—and they claim that they have been predominately plagued by a sickness which they cannot treat. The Federation offered to help them after contact was made, and in doing so discovered that almost all of the Orbs are carriers of the virus. It spreads by physical contact with any surface, whether it is living flesh or inert material and once in a suitable host, infects the brain stem, leading to hallucinations, loss of motor function and eventually brain death. I estimate that once released, it would consume this ship and everyone aboard within twenty-four hours, unless you took extreme measures to quarantine every sector of the ship and left the infected to suffer without aid."

Looking horrified, the Chief of Security shoved the box at the doctor and backed up several steps. The man didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

Roraqk, too, had taken several steps away from the box. He accused the doctor, "You said there wasn't a reason to be concerned—that Kirk and his men were being dramatic!"

"Don't be a coward, Roraqk," the other man said, holding up their prize. "We don't have to _touch_ the Orb, just turn it over to the Bajorans who want it!" He ran his hand across the smooth surface of the top. "It's locked up tighter than a—"

The box clicked.

Everyone froze, unable to tear their eyes away from it as its exterior shimmered and the very top of it rose a few millimeters, then shifted sideways. The box was not quite open but no longer sealed.

The doctor went white as a sheet and swayed on his feet. Roraqk and his Chief of Security fled. Jim latched onto the back of Spock's tunic and gave him a backwards jerk, along with the order "Outside, now, Commander!" Not once taking his eyes off of the container, he looped his arms under Essler's and began to drag the body of the young man clear of the room.

"Don't move," he tossed out to the terrified man holding the box, adding, "Spock, catch Roraqk. We need him to engage the quarantine."

"Jim..."

"Now, Spock!"

Spock didn't leave until Jim was just outside of the archway. Jim propped Essler up against a wall.

"Help me," croaked the doctor.

Jim lied, "It's not open yet."

The doctor nodded shakily. "I—I can put it in the container."

"No," Jim said. "Don't jar it."

"Then what should I do!" wailed the man.

"Stay still," he repeated. "I have an idea." And he did. It would still require the quarantine, though. What was taking Spock so long?

They could have stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, he and the other man, staring at each other, if it hadn't been for something neither of them expected:

A round door popped open about a meter above the floor on the far wall beside the control room, and Jim's missing partner, Leonard, stuck his head out.

"Jim!" Leonard cried happily, spotting him right away.

Jim choked out, "_Bones_."

The plan he had just concocted flew out of his head, and before he was aware of moving, he was back inside, crossing the room, past a trembling person and a deadly Orb.

Leonard had dragged himself out of the hole in the wall, which turned out to be some kind of tunnel, by the time Jim made it to his side.

Jim didn't give Leonard much time to orient himself. He simply started hauling Leonard back the way he had come.

"Jim, hey, wait a minute, what's going on?"

Spock reappeared at the archway with a conscious but cursing Roraqk in a two-handed grip. The Vulcan didn't look pleased to find Jim _and_ Leonard were both inside the room.

"Wait!" cried the person Jim was making sure to give him a wide berth.

That plea, of course, brought Leonard up short.

Jim reeled Leonard backward when Leonard started towards the other man. "Don't!" he said with urgency. "Bones, we can't stay in here."

Leonard gave him a look of incomprehension.

Spock said something to Roraqk, released the captain, and shockingly Roraqk did not immediately run away. Jim had no doubt that Spock had just made some very polite but very serious remark to Roraqk that couldn't quite be labeled a threat but that was nothing less than a very frightening promise. Jim had seen Spock's father, Sarek, do that once to a belligerent colleague and wisely decided never to cross the Vulcan. It looked as though the trait had been passed down from father to son.

Spock joined them in a matter of seconds. He said without preamble, "Every moment we linger here is a moment that brings us to a point from which we cannot return. Leonard, I will physically remove you if I must."

"Don't you dare, Spock. It's obvious that this man's sick!"

It was the wrong time to say within the hearing of a person who thought he might have a fatal infection.

The doctor started weeping—and the box slid sideways in his hands.

Jim couldn't think past the terror of having that box open with Leonard and Spock next to him. He reacted as he had in so many situations in the past: he simply did what he knew he had to.

But Spock was faster. The Vulcan shoved Leonard into him with a cry of "Go! Quickly!" and he threw himself at the box.

Horrified, Jim watched Spock catch it, but it was too late. The lid had come more than part of the way open.

Leonard looked and sounded equally horrified as he cried Spock's name, finally understanding what it was that had been in the desperate doctor's hands—and now was in Spock's.

Spock lifted his head, met Jim's eyes, and said again, "Go."

For once, Jim found himself following an order instead of giving it. It was accompanied by the worst pain he could imagine.

* * *

Leonard experienced a moment of unbridled rage as Jim pinned his arms and dragged him away from Spock. That box was death. They had to get that box away from Spock!

"Jim, you'd better let go of me this instant," he said in his most sinister tone.

Jim didn't reply, just nearly crushed Leonard's ribs in the effort to move him over to where Roraqk stood and another man, Essler, leaned against the wall in an unconscious state.

Spock was cradling the box against his chest like he was afraid that he might drop it, despite the lid being ajar. As they all watched him, he backed up to the perimeter of the control room, putting as much as space between him and the rest of them as the floor plan allowed. Then Spock stopped and looked at Jim and Leonard, just looked at them, and ever-so-gently closed them off from the bond that connected them to each other.

That broke Leonard's anger and brought his fear rushing back in.

Spock watched him like he understood.

Leonard had seen resignation in the eyes of every patient who had to accept that his life was ending. Seeing it in Spock's eyes now made him sick.

Spock turned his gaze on Jim, then, and Leonard didn't need words to recognize what passed between them.

Jim spoke in the roughest voice Leonard had ever heard from him when he said Roraqk's name, but it was as if Jim couldn't finish what he had to say.

Spock's eyes finally left Leonard and Jim and found Roraqk. "Captain," the Vulcan said, "please activate the ship's quarantine protocol now."

Leonard felt intense pain, magnified threefold.

Something like pity flashed through Roraqk's eyes. He hailed the ship's computer, and the quarantine was engaged.

Jim had never asked to register the change of command with the computer, Leonard realized in that moment, which should have been the first thing that he did. But by not doing so, Jim had given Roraqk the power to save them all because Leonard didn't know, can't imagine how, Jim would have done it and ever forgiven himself afterwards.

When the energy field snapped in place over the archway, officially separating them from Spock, Jim's control broke.

Leonard was too numb to feel Jim release him. He only knew Jim was gone when he heard Roraqk cry out. He turned, feeling so sluggish, so unbalanced, saw blood on Jim's fist and devastation on his face.

Too late, Leonard registered Roraqk's intent to hit back when the massive captain bared his teeth.

With no care for the strength that his bulk granted him, Roraqk's fist smashed into Jim's chin, and Jim flew backwards. They all heard the crack of his head connecting with the metal wall.

"Jim!"

When Jim dropped to his knees, Leonard went with him, caught him, and thought that in less than a minute he had just lost both his partners.

* * *

_Nearly a week later, aboard the Enterprise..._

_It's the Captain!_

Sweeter words Leonard had rarely heard. He brushed back the curl of hair lying against his patient's forehead and said, "It's about time you were up."

He couldn't make himself sound nearly as stern as he ought be—probably because he was much too relieved to see awareness in the man's eyes.

Jim blinked and gave him a small frown. "I'm on the Enterprise?" The frown deepened when Jim realized how rough he sounded.

Leonard saw the moment that Jim remembered what had happened. He pushed back on Jim's chest the moment Jim started to sit.

"Spock—" Jim started to say.

"Is fine," Leonard finished.

Jim looked at him with disbelief.

"He's fine," Leonard repeated. "Jim, it's okay, lay back down."

Jim slowly settled.

Some of his staff were watching. Despite that, Leonard almost leaned down to kiss his captain. _No, better not_, he reminded himself.

He felt a tingle of amusement that didn't belong to him. Leonard glanced over his shoulder in time to see the med bay door admit a newcomer to the crowd.

"Spock?" Jim called, his voice cracking, obviously not needing to see around Leonard to know who that person was.

The amusement faded and was replaced by relief, which Spock carried in his eyes as he approached them. He didn't alter the formal way he carried himself, but Leonard had the sense that Spock was wishing he could take Jim into his arms.

Weren't they a pair?

"I'm confused," Jim said in a small voice.

"We'll explain," Leonard promised him.

As Spock finished crossing the recovery bay, a murmur went through Leonard's staff—and they slowly began to disperse, filtering out in pairs, looking like they just remembered several other places they needed to be.

Tickled by that, Leonard took advantage of the opportunity for privacy. He slid his hand that had been lingering over Jim's pulse into Jim's. Jim responded by curling his fingers around it. They were slightly cool from having, at some point, been twitched out from under the thermal blanket during sleep.

"I remember," Jim began, "but then I... I don't..."

"You've been unconscious for four days. I was beginning to think I would have to slap you awake like I do a certain Vulcan."

Jim's hand automatically sought out his jaw.

Leonard sighed. "Jim," he complained, "what have I told you about picking fights with brutes who are bigger than you?"

"I didn't think."

"Evidently," murmured Spock.

Jim reached for Spock's hand. Spock let him have it. "I'm glad that you're all right, but _how_ are you all right?"

Leonard gave some of his focus to rubbing warmth back into Jim's fingers while Spock took his turn explaining.

"The isolation field did in fact prevent the spread of the virus, but interestingly by the time I had figured out how to reactivate the closing sequence of the box and the period of decontamination was complete, the virus had already encompassed every surface of the room. I would extrapolate that it reproduces at a rate of—"

"Spock," Leonard interrupted, "Jim isn't going to find that fascinating at all."

"Ah."

Leonard rolled his eyes.

"What are you saying?" Jim looked between them. "The decontamination worked?"

"Yes and no," Leonard replied. "The area was cleared but both Spock and—" Leonard dropped his eyes for a moment. "—that fool of a doctor were already infected as hosts. He died, but Spock didn't." Leonard did not see a need to mention that the death had been gruesome.

The skin around Jim's eyes tightened but he only said, "I thought you said that Spock was infected."

"Well, sort of infected. More like working rigorously to neutralize the infection. True fact, Jim: Vulcans apparently have superhuman antibodies."

"Super-Vulcan, Doctor."

Jim choked.

Leonard rolled his eyes again and continued on. "The good news is that we now have an excellent lead on a vaccination. The bad news is that you, Jim Kirk, gave me gray hairs that I didn't need!"

Jim smiled. "You were worried about me."

Leonard looked sardonic. "When I am ever not in a position that requires me to worry about you?"

Then he sobered. "You cracked our skull, you crazy fool. That old rust bucket of a ship had only half of the equipment I needed to keep your swollen brain from killing you."

Between not knowing what the virus was doing to Spock and thinking that Jim might die from his own stupidity, Leonard had been absolutely terrified.

Jim lifted Leonard's hand and kissed the back of it. "Poor Bones," he said with sincerity. "Forgive me?"

"Against my better judgment—always." He looked to Spock, who had drifted away to stand on the opposite side of Jim's biobed. "But Spock might not."

Spock cocked one of his eyebrows.

"Somebody has to be tough on him," Leonard added.

"It would be futile to expect our captain to change when he is already comfortable with himself."

"Are you implying that I have flaws, Mr. Spock?" said captain questioned.

"You are human," Spock replied with a twinkle in his dark eyes to match Jim's.

"Bones," Jim wanted to know, "will an alarm go off if I get out of this bed? One of my officers is being insubordinate and needs a lesson."

"Stay put," Leonard warned him, finally able to sound stern. "And don't worry about Spock, I'll take care of him."

Jim relaxed back into his pillow. "You're about as frightening as a wet kitten. I'm afraid Spock isn't going to take you seriously."

Leonard sputtered.

Then he remembered that he was still massaging Jim's hand and flung it away with exaggerated disgust.

"Watch him," he told Spock. "I've got to find the most invasive medical tool we own."

Jim's eyes may have widened for a moment but his expression quickly turned wicked. "Breaking your own rule, Bones? I thought intimate activities had to be confined to quarters... not that I'm complaining."

Leonard threw up his hands and stalked away.

He heard Jim chuckle, then Jim's face became serious and he said something to Spock.

Probably he was asking about the rest: Roraqk, Essler, Pieta.

Leonard was glad that they couldn't see him lose his grin. Jim will hate to learn that they could only get Roraqk on charges of assault, especially after Roraqk had cooperated during the quarantine and high-tailed his ship to the starbase as quickly as possible for aid. Obviously the glamour of a large payoff didn't compare to the idea of dying from disease.

Pieta... Leonard didn't want to think about Pieta. He knew for a fact that Roraqk had somehow smuggled her off the ship before they brought him up on charges. She was a loose end, one that Leonard felt he would always be wary of.

But Jim would like that Essler had not been charged, despitr how puzzling it was that the young man had disappeared once Leonard refused him entry to Jim's treatment room while they awaited transfer to the Enterprise. Oddly enough, Leonard suspected they would see Essler again someday—and that would definitely be a Jim-problem, not a Leonard-problem or a Spock-problem.

Leonard turned a corner and bumped into Chapel. "Oh, there you are," he said, hoping he didn't appear too flustered. "Do we have the latest readings on—"

She handed a data padd to him before he could finish his question.

"I performed the preliminary checks. I'm not the doctor in charge here, of course, but my professional opinion is that it would be okay to release the Captain to his quarters for the remainder of his recovery period."

Leonard trusted her professional opinion as much as his own. He doubted he would come to a different conclusion. "That's good," he said, scrolling through medical scores.

"Oh, I know." Christine gave him a light pat on the shoulder and a secretive smile. "Just don't wear him out too quickly, sir."

Leonard's head shot up but the nurse was already walking away.

She did stop halfway along the hall, though, and turn back for a short moment, saying, "Also, Mr. Scott says he will be glad to take care of the conn a while longer. Mr. Spock need not make other arrangements."

Leonard managed a strangled thanks.

Nobody questioned why the CMO was hiding his face behind a padd as he hurried back to the Captain and First Officer. In fact, any by-standers had been trained well enough not to question these things as long as their superiors remained blissfully happy.

**The End**

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who followed along with this story and to everyone who waited patiently for its completion! I daresay our Triumvirate will thoroughly vet their next vacation destination. XD**


End file.
